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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962691">Close Encounters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyrubysoho/pseuds/babyrubysoho'>babyrubysoho</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Fashion &amp; Models, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Closeted Character, Dorkiness, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Nerdiness, Requited Unrequited Love, Sassy Kwon Jiyong | G-Dragon, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Weirdness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:06:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>109,793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyrubysoho/pseuds/babyrubysoho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When vain (and cute as hell) fashion writer and part-time designer Kwon Jiyong meets Korea’s least enthusiastic model in the spring of 1987, he finds himself dazzled by his looks but unimpressed with literally everything else. Thus begins Jiyong’s mission to spruce up one beautiful dork and kick-start his flagging career (while incidentally trying to figure out which way his new acquaintance swings). But Seunghyun has more important things to concern himself with than the fit on a pair of pants. Jiyong’s curiosity is piqued (and his stylish sensibilities appalled); he decides to throw his better judgement to the wind and actually make friends. Then things get…weird.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>With illustrations :)</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Seunghyun | T.O.P./Kwon Jiyong | G-Dragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>153</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was meant to be a quick, light fic. But I'm enjoying writing it a hell of a lot, so here we are :)</p><p>My only GTOP fic (so far) written in first-person POV, and in terms of topic it's a little different from my previous fics; still, you get my signature slow burn period drama, this time in Seoul during the turbulent 1980s.<br/>Anyway, see what you think!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/8D3TfO6.png">  </a>
</p><p>
  <em>I saw the crescent<br/>
You saw the whole of the moon</em>
</p><p>(The Waterboys – The Whole of the Moon, 1985)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Everyone knows that if I’d grown up six inches taller I’d have been a model; the most <em>super</em> of models, and you better believe it: I’ve got face, style, charisma, I’m almost supernaturally photogenic – everything but the height. Goddamn genetics; by the time I was twenty I’d accepted it just wasn’t going to happen. All the same, I couldn’t walk away from that bright and glittering world, so full of beauty and glamour and behind-the-scenes Machiavellianism that it almost blew my tiny teenage mind. That was how I ended up as a fashion writer – plus part-time designer, plus all-round style guru and hobnobber to the stars. Ask whoever you like, there was no-one who knew more about couture in 1987 Seoul than Kwon Jiyong, and no-one who loved it more deeply.</p><p>I’d lived my twenty-six years believing fashion was the most exciting and meaningful thing in the cosmos – that it was capable of describing everything beautiful, spectacular, and terrible about life. I’d grown up with punk, after all; clothes were for making a <em>statement</em>. But: ‘Heaven and Earth, Horatio’ – (See, I’m not an uneducated airhead, fashion has room for the classics!) – it took just six months for my puny little world to be blown wide open forever. All thanks to one man.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I met him at a Reebok shoot. The Asian Games the year before and the prospect of our own Seoul Olympics in ‘88 meant sportswear was <em>the</em> look right now, and the foreign brands were falling over themselves to corner this new market. I’d come along to get some copy for a newspaper commission: what kind of image was the brand and its Korean PR trying to create, what did the models think of this fresh, hyper-casual style, did it matter if adults saw ‘the youth’ as sloppy, rebellious ne’er-do-wells, and was this connected with the large number of students involved in the recent protests? (And perhaps to get a little inspiration for my own new collection; I’d won the Korean Fashion Design Contest as an up-and-comer in ’85 and now I had to live up to myself.)</p><p>“Cheers,” I told the peppy ponytailed female model once she was done giving me her two cents. I scribbled down her answers – I knew her slightly and they couldn’t have picked a more perfect representative of edgy and girly – then waded through the chaos in search of her male counterpart. I’d been interviewing people for the majority of his shoot and hadn’t got a good look at him. It was proving quite the treasure hunt: there was a session for another brand going on in the same building and our floor was spilling over with pretty people. I figured I knew all the important movers and shakers, but which was mine? At last someone pointed him out, or at least the general vicinity in which he’d be changing.</p><p>“He scored a private room just to get dressed?” I asked the assistant, surprised. “Who is he, Prince?” In those days only the ladies got their own dressing room; male models were much less valuable (fashion being seen by our conservative society as an essentially feminine pursuit) and were meant to throw their clothes on in whatever corner was going spare.</p><p>“He’s very…particular,” said the assistant, and the roll of her eyes told me a lot about what to expect. Preparing myself, if not for Prince then at least a princess (and I oughta know a little something about that), I knocked on the closet door.</p><p>“Hey. You decent?”</p><p>“Hang on!” came a slightly panicked voice that didn’t at all match its deep, masculine timbre. Not the tone of the diva I’d been anticipating, although maybe he got his particular kicks out of making people wait. I checked my watch and tapped my foot; but when the door opened thirty seconds later I quit being grouchy and simply let my jaw drop. In front of me was quite possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. “Sorry,” said those lovely lips, the enormous eyes above them looking anxious. “I don’t like people seeing me change.” Suddenly the private room seemed the most sensible thing in the world: if the women (and likely ninety percent of the men) next door saw this deity with his shirt off there’d probably be a riot. I pulled my astonished gaze back far enough to take in the whole of him: tall, lean, long legs, perfectly styled hair, and that face…a <em>masterpiece</em>. I don’t say that lightly – I spend all day looking at beauty (including in the mirror, I might add); but there was no other word for him.</p><p>He seemed uncomfortable. Of course he was, I’d been staring at him like I was Norman Bates.</p><p>“Um,” I said intelligently. “I’m Kwon Jiyong.” No reaction; models usually recognized my name but maybe this heavenly creature was above all that. “I’m covering the Reebok release. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”</p><p>“Okay.” He pulled the closet door shut after grabbing an armful of belongings. “Can I pack up my stuff while we talk?”</p><p>“Anything you like,” I agreed, trying not to sound too much like I was drooling; this was <em>work</em>, dammit. I followed him over to the coffee station – the fashion industry survives on stimulants – and got him a cup while he carefully stacked his things in a plain black messenger bag; there was a glowing green pin on it with English writing too small to read. He was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, standard Eighties fare; nothing high-brand but it all looked designer on that body, though I couldn’t shake the feeling he oughta be wearing a custom-tailored suit – that the clothes should at least <em>attempt</em> to live up to the man. I passed him the coffee and took a seat beside him; two techs bustled past with a lighting rig and I shuffled my chair a bit closer.</p><p>“So…what did you want to ask?” he said, still arranging his bag.</p><p>“First off, what’s your name?”</p><p>“Choi Seunghyun.” I wrote it down carefully and managed to stop myself adding a schoolgirl heart. A master of restraint.</p><p>“Jiyong,” I said again; I didn’t want him forgetting – for professional reasons, naturally. He didn’t offer his hand, just gave an awkward kind of bow, so although I wanted to touch him I kept my own paw to myself and went through my mental index; amazingly, I didn’t think I’d heard of him. Perhaps he’d been working abroad? I shot him my best smile anyway but he wasn’t looking at me, as if he wasn’t keen on eye contact. I gave up and went through my standard questions about the brand, the new sporty aesthetic and its place in the broader fashion trends of Korea and Japan.</p><p>“I like them,” he said of the clothes and sneakers. “They’re comfy. That’s all that matters to me. I guess that’s why they hired me.” What kind of a model answer was that? Fashion has never been about <em>comfort</em>; it oughta be, but it’s not.</p><p>“How about the style? The colour palette, the fabrics?”</p><p>“They’re fine?” With what seemed a great deal of mental effort he added: “I like the dark ones.” I sighed to myself but wrote it down anyway; I was very much afraid I was gonna have to put Seunghyun in the stereotyped but sometimes highly accurate model category of ‘brainless beautiful bimbo’. Which meant he’d be a feast for the eyes but hardly the mind. Still, give a man a fair shake: I abandoned the Reebok questions and instead tried to get a handle on him, where he came from, where he’d been all my life. There had to be some reason I didn’t know that face.</p><p>“You’ve been working in Seoul for long?”</p><p>“Since I started college.” That couldn’t be right.</p><p>“You new to modelling?” Seunghyun looked to be around my age but perhaps he was a late bloomer, or else had been discovered on accident by some lucky talent scout who’d tripped over him in an out-of-the-way corner, like the prince stumbling upon Snow White in the woods.</p><p>“About six years now, I guess.” Okay, scratch that theory. I reeled off a list of people I thought he might know, keener than ever to get a line on the guy. He nodded at a few of them but didn’t comment. I don’t think I’ve ever met a less chatty person than Seunghyun was that first day.</p><p>“So what d’you do when you’re not working?” For some reason (fine, it was his looks, don’t judge me) I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet, though it was blatantly obvious he wanted to go home; he kept glancing at his hi-tech watch then peeking at the door, dropping his gaze when he accidentally met someone’s eyes. It was extremely cute. Upon hearing this question he perked up, his magnificent features for an instant alight. Excellent, I thought, here we go; perhaps he was a nut for gourmet food or the New Romantics (yes, I might’ve been projecting my personal tastes just a smidge). Then the expression dropped off his face as if he was deliberately forcing himself not to speak. I was now officially frustrated, and equally intrigued. So I pushed a little further.</p><p>“You have a girlfriend?” I inquired. Ever opportunistic, that’s me; besides, if she was in the industry I might know her. Seunghyun shook his head, suddenly blushing. “Boyfriend?” I added in a lower voice; I knew how dangerous it was to be outed, even in the fashion scene, especially if you wanted to go mainstream. Still, I figured I might as well ask – mere idle curiosity, of course.</p><p>“Actually,” said this tall and beautiful hunk o’ man awkwardly, “I’m, er…what you’d call married to my work.” Interesting; and admirable. But mostly surprising.</p><p>“In that case,” I pressed, “how come I’ve never heard of you?” That might’ve come off as patronizing; but I knew <em>everyone</em>, you gotta understand, I was the proverbial social butterfly, and Seunghyun was honestly the most handsome person I’d laid eyes on – handsome enough that he oughta be <em>international</em>. But I’d never seen so much as a polaroid of the man, never heard his name spoken with the eagerness or resentment that would normally accompany such devastating good looks. Were the heads of the industry crazy?! That face should be on billboards up and down Myeongdong. Seunghyun just shrugged.</p><p>“Dunno.” <em>Mmm</em>, the voice, too, so deep and delicious it gave me vibrations like a boom-box; this boy could clean up in TV commercials.</p><p>“Hey,” I said, one of my frequent inspirational whims opening my mouth for me, “what’re you doing later?” Seunghyun looked thrown, as if he was used to being more off-putting to people. Surely such a specimen couldn’t be <em>shy</em>. Then again, social anxiety can strike the most unlikely of us. “It’s just that I do an interview series for one of the Japanese magazines – with emerging fashion talent, you know?” I continued. “I know we don’t get their printed stuff here but there’s a good career to be had in Tokyo if you can get noticed. And I bet your story is pretty interesting.” I tried not to sound <em>too</em> interested, of course, that would hardly be professional; and professional I was in those days, even with hair that was currently bubblegum pink and piercings all the way up my ears. I just figured it’d be a nice thing to do for the guy; it might even be a break for him! Get him into the spotlight a bit – God knew that face deserved it. Everyone wanted to work in Japan. And I sure wouldn’t complain at the prospect of gazing into his big brown peepers over coffee.</p><p>I was looking forward to his reply, if just for the pleasure of hearing that caramel-whisky voice again. I was used to new models wanting to get to know me, ‘cos whether it was magazines or behind the scenes I’d developed a certain amount of clout. But this one merely ducked his head and finished pedantically packing up his things.</p><p>“Ah, sorry. I’m, um…busy later.” Maybe he <em>did</em> have a girlfriend. Even so – did he really not have any idea who I was? What I could do for him?</p><p>“Doing what?” I demanded, feeling…all right, maybe a tad bit snubbed; it was a rare day that I was turned down – in my professional capacity, at least. The less said about my personal track record the better: plenty of winning games and a decade of losing seasons, put it that way. Seunghyun went even redder.</p><p>“Got an investigation,” he mumbled quickly, avoiding eye contact. And as I opened my nosy trap to learn more about this unusual sentence Seunghyun glanced yet again at his watch, then scooped up his messenger bag and without another word ran out of the room like I was the medieval Inquisition.</p><p>“…What the hell was <em>that</em>?” I actually said it out loud, I was so thrown.</p><p>“<em>That</em> was Choi Seunghyun,” replied a voice I knew perfectly well, and Soojoo – a genuine giraffe-like supermodel and one of my dearest friends – slid into my eye-line from wherever she’d been (obviously) earwigging on my conversation; the shoot next door must’ve been for a real big label if they’d managed to snag <em>her</em>. She grinned. “You never had the pleasure?”</p><p>“Never!” She slid a fond arm round my shoulders and I looked up with the usual admiration (and eternal short-man envy) at her lovely, peculiar face atop her high heels. “I never even heard of him! What <em>is</em> he?”</p><p>“Not a success, that’s what – and he never will be.”</p><p>“But he’s <em>so</em>-”</p><p>“Hot? <em>Incandescent</em>, more like; I know. And he still barely gets hired. His zero sense of style aside, that tells you something, right?” I pursed my lips. “Forget about him, Ji, there’s no point even having him on your radar.” This surprised me: Soojoo wasn’t usually your classic bitch. Unless…</p><p>“Why, is he an asshole?” By which I also meant homophobe, but back then you couldn’t really come out (as it were) and say so in a room filled with twenty slight acquaintances.</p><p>“No-oooo,” said my Amazonian chum thoughtfully. “It’s just that no-one can deal with having him around; ergo, he’ll never be famous.” And, at my undeterred expression: “Unless this is a <em>personal</em> interest of yours?” I flapped a hand at her in dismissal and she squeezed me tighter – she was one of the few people in the know who’d never judged me. “O-ho! But even then, sweetie, I wouldn’t bother: he wouldn’t be good for you.”</p><p>“But <em>why</em>?” Oh, man, I was getting more curious by the second! Nothing like tall, handsome and mysterious to pique my interest. “Not that I’m interested!” I added hurriedly. “Just tell me – what’s wrong with this guy?” Soojoo shrugged her elegant bird-bony shoulders.</p><p>“Nothing much. Only that he’s the creepiest, spookiest, dorkiest, most socially challenged UFO nerd in Korea – and he can’t help letting everyone know it!”</p><p>“…Oh!” my highly articulate self said after a pause. Christ, I really could pick ‘em, couldn’t I. Then I burst out laughing, ‘cos what was I if not a writer? Maybe once in a while I ought to think broader than Cathy Ireland’s latest cover shoot or Chanel’s new Spring lineup. And this really <em>could</em> be an interview and a half.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I wasn’t about to let a little thing like a potential paranormal obsession deter me. Admittedly, yes, that kind of hobby would in principle send me packing the moment I heard it; but Seunghyun was far too attractive on the outside to prevent me wanting at least a <em>peek</em> of the inside. So I got the name of his agency from the Reebok organizers – who, having worked with him once, looked at me like I was barmy; God knew what he’d been saying to them – and they gave me his number. The woman on the phone seemed highly ambivalent about her client; they were a top-level agency who’d obviously recognized his huge potential before being wigged out by his (alleged) interests.</p><p>The low, rich voice when Seunghyun answered the phone gave me a shiver (after I’d got over my surprise that it wasn’t his mum who’d picked up, but apparently he was living alone and not basement dwelling at his parents’ like a proper geek). He sounded a bit befuddled when I said I wanted to interview him and asked him to pick a time; still, he agreed quick enough. We arranged to meet Saturday afternoon at a new café in Dongdaemun. He said he was busy nights; I would soon find out with what.</p><p>“Tell me about your passion for fashion,” I began (poetically) when we had our drinks. That was my standard opening question, though in this case I realized it was pretty optimistic: I’d dressed to impress as I did every day, but Seunghyun was wearing jeans again and a frayed long-sleeved tshirt with a peeling band logo on it, all topped with thick-framed black glasses; he looked like he’d just about managed to drag a brush through his hair but that was evidently the extent of his grooming. He was still beautiful, but stylish? No.</p><p>“I wouldn’t say it was a <em>passion</em>,” he told me bashfully. “And these days I can barely call it a job.” I stared at him, aghast and even offended; not for myself but at the way he seemed to take the gift of his looks for granted. This should be his goddamn <em>vocation</em>.</p><p>“What a waste of a face!” (I was never one to pass up a rhyme.) Seunghyun frowned charmingly into his cappuccino. His hands were wonderfully large but still elegant; honestly, he was perfect to the tips of his fingers.</p><p>“I like to think there’s a lot more to me than my <em>face</em>.” In another man that could’ve come off like innuendo, and I’d have loved to interpret it as flirtation; but he sounded too serious to allow me such a pleasant fantasy.</p><p>“I mean, yeah.” I gestured admiringly (though not at all pervily) at the rest of him. “You’re the whole package! A born model.” Seunghyun sighed. “That’s why I want to talk to you,” I went on, squaring up my notebook and giving him a flash of my most disarming smile. “To meet a guy who’s obviously not super into this business but who’s <em>so perfectly</em> made for it, that’s rare; usually it’s the other way round.” Seunghyun smiled wryly at his coffee and looked good doing it; his eyelashes went on <em>forever</em>. I leaned forward encouragingly. “Can you tell me how you got started?” I couldn’t imagine he’d applied to an agency like the hordes of other hopefuls; he seemed to have no cognizance of his own good looks. It probably hadn’t even crossed his mind.</p><p>“Someone scouted me at Seoul Station,” explained the world’s least egocentric model with a shrug. “I didn’t really understand what they wanted – they just asked if we could go someplace to talk, take some pictures of me. They said I could make money.”</p><p>“And you somehow didn’t worry you were being groomed for a porno,” I couldn’t help saying. What a dope this lovely creature was!</p><p>“I was a bit distracted.” Seunghyun looked embarrassed, so I didn’t ask by what – probably a flying saucer. “And I needed to get some cash together. I wasn’t making too much at the bookstore – in Pyounghwa Market, that’s where I still work when my agent doesn’t call me for weeks – and I wanted to take a trip to Jeju.”</p><p>“Very nice.” Maybe Seunghyun did know how to have a good time; Jeju was a sweet little getaway. It could even be romantic, provided you weren’t spending the long weekend breaking up with your son-of-a-bitch boyfriend (who oh-so-deeply wished he wasn’t queer and resented me for it the whole time we were together), which was my most recent island experience.</p><p>“Yeah!” agreed my interviewee with the first spark of enthusiasm I’d seen him display. It made his huge eyes crinkle up at the corners and I caught a glimpse of perfect white teeth – oh, and dimples. It was certainly enough to make me start fiddling self-consciously with my hair to ensure I looked equally good; I sat on my hands ‘til they quit showing me up. “My friend Dae wanted to investigate some ghost sightings for his birthday, and Jeju’s meant to be, like, <em>hugely</em> haunted.” I nodded with appropriate journalistic poise at this information, half wanting to roll my eyes at the <em>hugely</em> dorky reveal and half surprised that he’d admitted it voluntarily. He must know his reputation was costing him jobs, right? Still, at least I’d lost my sudden urge to preen myself for his benefit: as I’m sure poor Seunghyun knew only too well, there’s nothing like the mention of an all-male séance to kill a boner.</p><p>“…Yeah,” I said. “I heard about your, uh, hobby.” Seunghyun almost winced.</p><p>“I suppose everyone knows by now.” He stirred his coffee, breaking the fleeting moment of eye contact I’d been enjoying. “I try not to bring it up anymore ‘cos it seems to alienate people…” (Get it? <em>Alien</em>ate…oof.) “…but sometimes I can’t seem to help it,” he added in a mumble. So he <em>did</em> know how off-putting it was, the unfortunate sod. Looking at his face I was surprised to find that I knew (in a roundabout way) how he felt. I remembered my dad’s expression whenever I would mention fashion, when I was so enthused by something I’d seen or created as a teenager that I <em>had</em> to talk about it. That pained, deliberately detached look; I’d quickly learned to share those things with my mum and my sister only – and my liking for other men with none of them. And now I felt <em>sorry</em> for Seunghyun.</p><p>“Well, why don’t you tell me about it?” That was what I was going for, wasn’t it? More unique and eccentric model profiles to add some colour to my articles. I was hardly likely to find anything more eccentric than this, and I could leave out the most excruciating bits when I wrote up the interview. Seunghyun had raised his head and was staring at me as though I’d invited him to perform a very specific sex act on the café table.</p><p>“You want to <em>talk</em> about this stuff?!”</p><p>“Sure; I’m trying to figure out what makes you tick. For the article,” I said quickly.</p><p>“But you’re normal!” God, I had to fight myself to avoid straight up declaring how cute he was. And how unbelievably geeky.</p><p>“Yeah, so, y’know…keep it elementary,” I suggested. Hint: don’t go on about the Loch Ness Monster ‘til closing time. I should’ve remembered that fanatics aren’t too well-versed in subtlety.</p><p>“I like all kinds of things,” he told me eagerly, his curled-in posture straightening as we spoke and his lovely hands coming to life. “But the last couple of years it’s mainly UFOs.”</p><p>“Since when?” How did an ordinary Korean boy (not that anyone with Seunghyun’s looks could be called ordinary) develop such tastes?</p><p>“There was a foreign student in my dorm at Yonsei,” Seunghyun explained. “American.” Ah; now it was making sense. Hmm…Yonsei, though. He must have a halfway decent brain after all. “He’s a tech guy and he was the only one on campus with a VHS player. We used to watch sci-fi movies together, it was fun. When we got to know each other better he showed me some weird video footage, lent me a bunch of books.” He looked nostalgic. “He made me see that the world is so much bigger than I knew.”</p><p>“I thought aliens and stuff were from another world?”</p><p>“That,” said Seunghyun, abruptly excited, “is a very interesting question!”</p><p>“Er…is it?” My lack of fascination must’ve come across because he reined himself back and spread his hands.</p><p>“Aliens aside – and what’re aliens, anyway? There’s so much to look into, so many things people dismiss without even glancing at the <em>very real</em> hints of what’s out there, right under their noses.” I racked my brain for what the American movies had taught me about the paranormal, but all I could recall was that <em>Ghostbusters</em> was awesome.</p><p>“We’re talking what? Roswell, Bigfoot?”</p><p>“A drop in the ocean!” Seunghyun exclaimed, and for the first time met my eyes without the slightest hesitation, a moment of connection glorified by his genuine love of what he was talking about. Something in me responded to that, the part of me that got giddy over a Vivienne Westwood sketch – until Seunghyun went into full Fanboy mode: “Area 51, Dulce, the Mothman, ‘demonic’ possession, Borley Rectory, the Devil’s Triangle, the Hills, the Hudson Valley sightings, Rendlesham Forest, poltergeist activity, residual hauntings, Men in Black, skinwalkers, Biblical UFOs, tulpas, dogmen…I mean, this is just off the top of my head! Some of it’s obviously bullshit, of course,” he added, backtracking sensibly.</p><p>“…Uh-huh.” I didn’t bother writing half of that down; the words barrelled past me in a nonsensical slew. “So, like, does America have a monopoly on this spooky crap or what?”</p><p>“Oh, no.” Seunghyun didn’t even pause to look offended that I’d called his hobby crap. “There’s plenty in Europe, Japan, wherever you go – and a lot of it’s <em>eerily</em> similar.” He exhaled in a whoosh. “Don’t even get me started on Vietnam and the Philippines!”</p><p>“Trust me, I won’t.” He clicked his tongue at me and I could tell he now considered himself master of this conversation. It was the first time I’d seen him look really confident; I couldn’t deny that it suited him enormously, so I chose not to burst his bubble yet. “But don’t we have any home-grown mumbo-jumbo?”</p><p>“Sure,” he said, pushing his glasses up his adorable nose in a professor-ish way. “When it comes to UFOs a lot of records got lost at the end of the colonial period, then in the war – though there’re enough freaky reports from<em> that</em> mess, too, and on all sides of the line. And some of the cryptids and ghost legends got brought over with the Japanese. But if you wanna thrill your readers-” (he said with a pathetic but charming lack of sarcasm) “-we’ve got the gumiho, that was only a couple of years ago, dokkaebi – I know a guy who swears he’s seen them at Independence Gate – Cheonji monsters up in the North, and gwisin, though I reckon they’re just a ghost tale to scare old maids into getting married. If it’s hauntings in general we’ve got ‘em up the wazoo, at least if you listen to the SGS; sorry, Seoul Ghost Society. And a couple of decent aerial sightings. But our groups have even less money than the Americans; we’ve barely got the budget for tea and biscuits, never mind publicity and proper research.”</p><p>“But…” I interjected when I could get a word in edgeways. “Are you honestly telling me you believe in…in <em>hauntings</em> and all that?”</p><p>“I believe in something,” said Seunghyun, a thoughtful line between his luxurious eyebrows. And, after a pause: “…I <em>want</em> to believe. What, exactly? I’m not sure yet. Maybe just that we’re not alone in the universe. What are ‘ghosts,’ what’re ‘aliens’, dokkaebi, all of that? Where does it <em>come</em> from?” He reached across the table before quickly drawing his hand back as if his enthusiasm had got the better of him – almost instinctively I wanted to reach after him; I didn’t care about spaceship sightings, I just wanted to know if his hands were warm. Seunghyun clasped his fingers together. “All I know is that they’re connected,” he declared excitedly. “I’m sure of it – and one day I believe we’ll find out how!” I couldn’t think of anything sensible to say to that, so I went with the first thing that came to my poor bombarded brain:</p><p>“You know you look really good like this. I mean…if you put that fire into your career you could sell <em>anything.</em>” Luckily any inappropriate overtones of hitting on my interviewee were lost in Seunghyun’s zeal; he just blinked at me, bit his lip, and said breathlessly:</p><p>“…You wanna come to a thing next week?” Was this, by some miracle, an invitation to a <em>date</em>? “The guys could tell you much more about all this than I can,” Seunghyun added modestly. Oh. Oh, no, this wasn’t a date, it was a summons to a slow and boring execution! I tried to imagine a room full of other paranormal nuts; even with Seunghyun’s face superimposed over each of them it was a nightmarish vision. I opened my mouth to decline with as little visible horror as possible; then the real Seunghyun smiled, and it was such a guileless and childishly <em>hopeful</em> smile that I couldn’t do anything but melt. I’d never had a man look at me like that before; how could I refuse?</p><p>“Well…what is it?” I asked suspiciously, still hoping I might be able to say no. Seunghyun’s brown-sugar eyes opened wide for a second, presumably at the fact that I hadn’t blanched at his invitation and vanished out the bathroom window. I guessed then that he hadn’t been doing a lot of dating – or indeed socializing with normal people – for some time.</p><p>“It’s a KUFOS meeting,” he said humbly. I raised my own groomed eyebrows. “Korean UFO Society,” he translated, his voice going small and hesitant. Another glance from those big cow eyes and I was screwed.</p><p>“…Okay,” I said at last. “<em>One time</em>.” Seunghyun perked up, visibly astounded at the prospect of my company; even I, who considered myself quite a catch if you liked that kinda pretty boy, thought it was probably overkill. Then again, goofballs had to take what they could get – even if they <em>were</em> literally models.</p><p>I gave Seunghyun a philanthropic smile in exchange for a scribbled note with the details of the meeting (his hangul sucked) before we went our separate ways. I spent the rest of the weekend at my new word processor remembering the very flattering expression on his beautiful face when I’d agreed to see him again, and wondering how the hell I was supposed to work an alien convention into something that even vaguely resembled fashion.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I got to the meeting early, less out of courtesy than to do surveillance – to see if I could really bring myself to sit through…whatever the hell this was going to be. It was in the community annex of a Presbyterian church in one of the suburbs; when I stepped inside it had that church hall smell that reminds me of Scouts and choir practice, neither of which were my most scintillating childhood memories. I snuck through the foyer and gingerly poked my head round the door. It was the usual bare, all-purpose meeting room with unflattering yellow tube lights. Someone had dragged about ten chairs into a rough circle; on a small plywood side table sat a tea dispenser and a packet of supermarket cookies. Taped to the table was a handwritten sign reading ‘KUFOS’, and beneath that (rather optimistically, if you asked me): ‘<em>The truth is out there</em>’.</p><p>A group of huddled, slouched, and variously hunched shapes populated the room, lolling in the chairs or chatting around the tea table; the only way I could tell them apart from the alien lifeforms they presumably spent their weekends pursuing was their stunning collection of anoraks and arch-support soles. From what I could glean through my furtive observation they ranged in age from student to senior citizen; one, about my age, had flaming ginger hair: the American contingent, I guessed. I saw neither hide nor hair of a woman.</p><p>“You came!” stated a deep, delicious voice in my ear, making me jump at its volume and its puppyish delight. I turned and there was Seunghyun, glasses jammed on his nose and looking ravishing ‘til you got to his hairline, where it all fell apart. I had a terrible urge to whip out my comb and sort him out but heroically held myself back; the way things (e.g. church hall and orthopedic shoes) were going, our relationship was <em>never</em> gonna reach that stage. He stepped back, grinning at having surprised me; would you believe it, the man was wearing an honest-to-god <em>cagoule</em>. I pointed at it in outrage: a body that had touched the finely crafted garments of Jean Paul Gaultier (which his had – I’d checked his resumé) had no business donning a <em>bird-watchers</em> uniform. “It’s windy,” he said simply, as if that was any excuse. “Come on; I’ll introduce you.”</p><p>“You don’t have to!” I told him, suddenly nervous and not in the good first-date way. “Can’t I just…shadow you?”</p><p>“Shadow hours are important for new members, yes,” he said solemnly.</p><p>“I’m not a member!” I hissed, not even bothering to ask what that meant. As we were bickering another windbreaker-sporting fanatic pushed past us.</p><p>“Eight o’clock!” he told Seunghyun, staring at me like I was E.T.; of course, pink hair and perfect style were probably as rare a sight around here. “We’re starting.” Seunghyun smiled at him, then at me; then he took hold of my arm, and just for a moment I forgot what I was complaining about.</p><p>“Please,” he said simply, and that pleasant little tingle travelled down my spine. I decided grudgingly that if it meant so much to him I <em>supposed</em> I could endure it. Hovering close to his side I followed him in.</p><p> </p><p>It was simultaneously the maddest and most madly <em>dull</em> evening I’d ever spent in my life. I honestly don’t know how KUFOS achieves it, but they consistently manage to blend psychiatrist’s-office-level bonkers with Physics-class tedium. That night was just my first taste, and sad to say the impression it made on me has never left.</p><p>Seunghyun introduced me to his fellow members; I wasn’t sure if he would call them ‘friends’. They talked to each other familiarly and heatedly, but as soon as my trendsetting ass was added to the mix most of them clammed up and became monosyllabic, staring piles of astonishment. Maybe I’m being a teeny bit harsh ‘cos later on I <em>did</em> get to know some of them and witness actual human behaviour, but compared to Seunghyun…well, there was no comparison. What was adorably bashful on him was borderline rude on them – plus his lack of chic clothing-wise was heavily mitigated by his peerless face. So we muttered at each other, the KUFOS members and I, ‘til the meeting was mercifully called to order and I could take my seat in Seunghyun’s shadow.</p><p>I won’t bore you with all the details of what Seunghyun generously referred to as a ‘healthy discussion’, mostly ‘cos I remember very little about it – I was alternately gawping in fascinated horror, studying Seunghyun’s stunning profile whenever he was speaking, and falling asleep the rest of the time. Suffice to say that it started as a report on the latest Hudson Valley sighting (whatever that was) in New York, proceeded into a minutely detailed recap of every similar UFO encounter from Six-Two-Five (for the uninitiated that’s the Korean War) onwards, and ended with a ninety-minute fight about everything from investigation protocol to the nature of extraterrestrial life.</p><p>“…Is this always what it’s like?!” I whispered to Seunghyun, limp and exhausted after two hours. The ‘discussion’ showed no signs of abating; with the nationwide midnight curfew being lifted this year for the first time in decades, they didn’t have much incentive to stop – they might go on <em>all night</em>.</p><p>“More or less,” Seunghyun said wryly; but he looked happy as a clam. His redheaded friend quit haranguing the group in mixed Korean and heavy English loanwords long enough to notice I was flagging, and kindly fetched me a cup of tea and a biscuit. Revived, I smiled weakly at him and he dove back into the fray. This Henry (Californian, computer engineer) turned out to be the very roommate who’d introduced poor Seunghyun to all this madness back in his college days; he’d told me so himself, being the only member who wasn’t tongue-tied upon meeting me. Who’d have thought the American would have the best social skills in the room!</p><p>Seunghyun and Henry obviously saw eye to eye, despite the latter’s eyes being approximately a foot lower down. The engineer was a short, plump, bearded ball of extreme enthusiasm that in my book bordered on mania, but whatever he said seemed to jibe with Seunghyun’s way of thinking: as far as I could tell (not that that was so far) my handsome acquaintance consistently backed him up, and vice versa. I didn’t necessarily think it was a <em>good</em> thing that Henry was encouraging Seunghyun to new heights of dorkdom, but I had to admit it was rather nice to see him come out of his shell. Seunghyun made some (tedious) point about ‘witness testimony procedure,’ and at a few grumbles of contradiction from the room the other man leapt to his rescue.</p><p>“At MUFON-” interjected Henry with one pedantic finger raised.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah!” half a dozen guys yelled over him, almost in unison like this was a regular performance, “we know how they do it at MUFON!”</p><p>“Can it!” Henry bawled louder. “They’ve got hundreds of members and an <em>exam</em> and a <em>manual</em>! Don’tcha think Tabi knows where to go for protocol?!”</p><p>“Tabi?” I murmured, thinking this was yet another alien acronym.</p><p>“His Korean sucked when we first met,” whispered Seunghyun, who was watching his friend in complacent approval. “He couldn’t pronounce my name so we just rolled with that.” I shrugged; it made as much sense as anything else tonight.</p><p>I retreated to a prostrate silence beside Seunghyun (who was now throwing out heated sentences full of words such as ‘flap’ and ‘nuts-and-bolts’ and ‘psychedelic’), and soon dropped into a fantasy in which I could allow myself to scream ‘shut up!! Will you nerds just <em>shut up</em>?!’ before taking to my heels. But that’d be unpardonably rude even for me, so I settled for glaring at every man who felt the need to open his yap and prolong this (literally) senseless argument – my gorgeous dumbass companion included.</p><p>“…So,” said Seunghyun when the meeting had at long, <em>long</em> last been adjourned. “What’d you think?” I gave him a deadpan stare and he had the decency to look a little shamefaced. “I guess maybe it was a bit advanced for a newbie,” he admitted at my continued silence.</p><p>“Hah!” said Henry as he passed us. “He caught us on a <em>good</em> night – we’re not always this articulate.” He tugged on a Star Wars baseball cap and grinned at me. He was <em>definitely</em> kidding, right?</p><p>“Yeah, but he’s just a baby when it comes to all this,” pointed out Seunghyun at (presumably) the rictus face I was making in my effort not to be rude to Henry – if he could yell at the KUFOS grandpas he’d think nothing of yelling at <em>me</em>. “I shouldn’t have thrown him in at the deep end.”</p><p>“We covered some key points!”</p><p>“Okay, but Stanton Friedman was probably a bit much.”</p><p>“Hah!” said Henry again, and mercifully left.</p><p>“Ugh,” I muttered, wilting. I was <em>exhausted</em>. Seunghyun held the door open for me and we exited into the dark. Gallantly (or maybe just guiltily) he walked me up the street to look for a taxi.</p><p>“I <em>am</em> sorry,” he told me.</p><p>“It was just so long. And <em>loud</em>.”</p><p>“It’s not an alien discussion unless it begins or ends with screaming,” Seunghyun agreed. I wrapped my arms round my Versace-clad torso and shivered, glaring resentfully at his damn cagoule. He chewed on his lip for a second. “I wanted to show you something about my life, how…stimulating all this is; but I guess I made myself look even lamer.”</p><p>“I’ve spent more exciting evenings, yeah.” We sighed at the same time. “This isn’t your hobby, is it,” I concluded. “It’s integral to <em>who you are</em>.” Seunghyun gave me a very small smile, as if he was glad I could really see him but wasn’t optimistic about the effect it might have.</p><p>“It is.” He glanced at the pavement, the same shy look as our first meeting. “When I was younger I had…trouble connecting with people,” he explained. “I was kind of big, and I was weird; and unless you wanna be the class clown that’s not a winning combination.” I raised my eyebrows but he was still staring at the ground. “I was lonely – I thought there was no-one else like me.” Oh, I knew that feeling: my closeted teenage heart swelled in sympathy. Seunghyun brightened. “Then I met these guys, and here I am!” Crap, how was I meant to bitch about his yawnsome inclinations now? I sighed instead, and said:</p><p>“Would you turn down a job if Henry called you and told you he’d…I dunno, had a UFO sighting?”</p><p>“…I’d try to plan around it,” said Seunghyun after a pause. “Modelling <em>is</em> good work, after all. But yeah…if there were really some time-sensitive phenomena going on I think I’d <em>have</em> to ditch.”</p><p>“Right…” Now I understood what he’d meant that first day when he’d said he was married to his work: <em>this</em> was his vocation – not modelling, not bookselling. “Ugh,” I said again, but inwardly. I had never met anyone this truly uncool. And yet Seunghyun was gorgeous, and actually intelligent, even if he aimed it all in the wrong direction and ended up spouting the kind of gobbledygook he’d been giving ‘em tonight – and he was at least vaguely self-aware. Dammit, if he had to have an embarrassing obsession why couldn’t it be trainspotting?! At least trains <em>exist</em>. We walked on, elbows brushing, while I mentally wrestled my growing liking for this beautiful man-child with my natural inclination to keep my distance from anything that smacked of the <em>un-hip</em>. Seunghyun finally flagged down a taxi.</p><p>“Hey,” he said hurriedly as I was clambering in. “D’you wanna maybe try again? I don’t want to leave you with this bad of an impression of the lifestyle!” I must have grimaced because he rushed on: “With just the two of us, I mean.” Ah. Hmm. “I was gonna go up to Seoraksan next Saturday, do an overnight watch.”</p><p>“Watch for what?”</p><p>“Whatever’s out there. You can see the sky so clearly. Even if there’s nothing going on, it’s beautiful up on the mountain.” I reflected; that did sound slightly more me: I loved beauty in whatever form it took. Also, Seoraksan equals hot springs. But I wasn’t about to go exposing myself to the elements without a bit of quid pro quo.</p><p>“I’ll come on your little expedition,” I told Seunghyun, and his face lit up. Even if it was just the glow of alien-anticipation, that look made me feel warm all over. “<em>If</em> you’ll do something for me first.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Christ</em>, I thought to myself, trying to maintain my poise while shifting from foot to foot under the glittering lights, <em>I hope he did what I told him</em>! I was in the lobby of the Sejong Center, fashionistas and socialites all around, and above us were the banners advertising the Givenchy catwalk show. I had my trusty notebook – I was on the job this evening – and was pretending to document the sparkling scene while waiting for my… What was he? Not my date, that was for damn sure, not after that car-crash of a meeting the other night; …for my <em>charity project</em> to show up.</p><p>“Wotcher,” said a familiar voice, and Youngbae appeared at my side dressed to the nines in this season’s collection, which he’d no doubt scored for free. Youngbae was probably the most popular singer of the last few years: a heartthrob for girls, a role model and all-round cool dude for guys, and one of my oldest friends. As a rule I was delighted to see him, though right now not so much. “You look like you’re about to take your finals again,” Youngbae pointed out, observing my jitters – he knew me too well.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“It’s only Givenchy,” he added, managing to sound flippant; but I knew that inside he loved peacocking almost as much as I did. A group of European models sashayed past; one of them winked at him.</p><p>“Only!”</p><p>“Calm down,” he told me with a grin. “The PR guys know one of your write-ups can make or break a collection here – they’re gonna be falling all over you!”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” That was <em>not</em> why I was antsy. “Look, there goes the champagne – grab us some, will you?” Ever the obliging good boy under his pop-star sunglasses, Youngbae wandered off in pursuit of the drinks tray and the ladies. I returned my eyes to the big glass doors: nothing. Now I was getting pretty pissy. I glanced to my right to see if Youngbae was on his way back yet, and almost jumped out of my skin: Seunghyun was standing right next to me. “Holy crap, where did you spring from?!”</p><p>“Came in the side door,” said Seunghyun, unfazed. “There were all photographers out front.”</p><p>“That’s the point, dummy!” I scolded him, having walked the gauntlet of fashion press myself on the way in (and rather enjoyed it – it was the closest I’d ever get to having the career Seunghyun so recklessly took for granted). I stepped back and gave him a critical once-over.</p><p>“I did what you said.” Seunghyun shot me a smile and held out his arms so I could better feast my eyes.</p><p>“Hmph. You tried, anyway.” He had, too. He was still wearing jeans but these were dark and very fitted; Jesus, his legs went on forever. Luckily (or not) his ass was hidden by an actual blazer, I couldn’t tell what brand but at least it was cut to properly show off his frame. The tshirt beneath was nondescript, though knowing what the rest of his wardrobe was like that was probably for the best. He had decent loafers on and had abandoned his specs (I could see them poking out of his top pocket). Only one thing was bugging me, and despite what I’d promised myself not to do before, I knew I could fix it in a trice: I tugged the comb out of my chic handbag (I refused to accept that purses were only for the ladies) and steered Seunghyun into the lee of a pillar. “Bend down!” I ordered. “You bloody beanpole.”</p><p>“Sorry, Tinkerbell.” The man smirked at me, then obeyed. So, it had a sense of humour after all!</p><p>“Look, <em>Tabi</em>,” I said scathingly, pushing the soft, floppy locks of hair back from his face, “if people can’t see those peepers of yours then you’re wasting half your brand.” I don’t know what gave me the license to touch him, to pull him about as if we’d known each other for years; maybe the knowledge that he was such a freak himself helped me drop the formality I was normally so careful to preserve in my work.</p><p>“You like my eyes?” He fluttered his lashes at me outrageously, then sniggered. I yanked the comb through his hair and he yelped. Ignoring him I extracted a small tub of wax from my bag and made sure his coif was set securely in place.</p><p>“There. Perfect! Now leave it alone.” I looked him up and down; really, he <em>was</em> perfect. I mean, I knew <em>I</em> looked great, but this…it was ridiculous. I had an instant of déjà vu, the sensation of utter astonishment I’d had when I first clapped eyes on him. It was a pleasant feeling and I hoped I’d never get used to it.</p><p>“You’re really anal, you know that?” Oh, <em>what</em> couldn’t I have said to that! I didn’t, though: I still no idea which way Seunghyun swung, if any way at all, and I wasn’t about to try flirting with him. Knowing what I did about his level of devotion to his ‘studies’ I doubted he had a lot of mental space for anything else, and I wasn’t sure I’d try to pursue him even if he had. It’d be like banging your head against a wall: pointless, and ultimately painful if you got too into it.</p><p>“You’re in a good mood,” I commented instead. His eyes got that bright single-minded look – no prizes for guessing where this was going.</p><p>“Someone brought some really interesting footage to group! I’ve <em>gotta</em> get one of those new video cameras, they cost an arm and a leg but somehow…”</p><p>“Well if you behave yourself like a nice tractable model,” I cajoled, taking his arm to lead him towards the theatre and the catwalk front row (Youngbae obviously having abandoned me to hog the booze to himself), “we might be able to do something about that.”</p><p> </p><p>It felt very nice to have Seunghyun sitting next to me, the ultimate arm candy so long as he kept his mouth shut or limited himself to velvet-toned small talk. Once the show began he was thankfully intrigued (or just polite) enough to zip his lip and watch his colleagues rock those beautiful clothes on the runway. When I glanced up from my furious scribbling and sketching I found he didn’t seem envious of them so much as professionally interested. He spent as much time peering over my shoulder at my drawings of the suits and couture gowns as he did watching the models. This was flattering, but not the impression I was intending for him to make tonight.</p><p>“Pay attention!” I hissed in his ear, giving him a sly elbow to the side to make him sit up straight. “Look enthralled!” Seunghyun had the cheek to give me the same forbearing smile I’d attempted at the UFO meet, and rearranged himself in his chair. One lock of hair had slipped out of place to curl on his forehead; I added a final note to my sketch then quickly flipped the curl back into place. A minute later it fell down again. I decided it gave him a rakish James Dean kind of look and abandoned my efforts. Across the catwalk I saw Youngbae peering my way. Nosy parker. I aimed one last dig at Seunghyun’s ribs, then composed myself and went back to work.</p><p>“Thanks for inviting me,” said Seunghyun politely once the final applause was over and the rich and influential were leaving their seats. He stood up and stretched happily.</p><p>“Not so fast, spaceman!” I took his elbow and shepherded him through the crowd, nodding and smiling prettily at my industry acquaintances. “You’re coming to the after-party.” Seunghyun looked resigned. “There’s a free bar,” I added. That did the trick.</p><p>I sent Seunghyun off to get drinks, adjuring him not to say <em>anything</em> about aliens to <em>anyone</em>. In the meantime I managed a quick round of hobnobbing, which is half my job and could be much better accomplished without the stunning but off-putting presence of my notoriously spooky plus-one. To my lack of surprise Youngbae took the first opportunity to sidle up and grill me.</p><p>“Who’s that supermodel you brought along?”</p><p>“A model,” I said blandly.</p><p>“Your new squeeze?” Youngbae hadn’t been too sure when he’d first grasped my liking for men – it’d still been the Seventies when he found out and his family was religious. But being one of the most genuine people I knew, he’d come round to it eventually (especially once he’d been reassured he wasn’t my type).</p><p>“Nope: my project.” My friend gave me the side-eye; he didn’t believe me. Then again who would, with Seunghyun looking like he’d just stepped out of an art museum?</p><p>“What’s his name?”</p><p>“Choi Seunghyun.” No reaction: good. Seunghyun’s reputation hadn’t spread <em>too</em> far, then.</p><p>“Can he play basketball?”</p><p>“Oof. I have no idea.”</p><p>“I wanna recruit some more guys for the Saturday game, and seeing as you’re too worried about chipping a nail to join-” I smacked him, then cracked a saucy smile and posed with him for a gossip mag photographer, giving her a nod, one professional to another.</p><p>“You wanna ask him?” I said. “Be my guest.” I’d like to see Bae’s reaction when Seunghyun explained exactly what he <em>did</em> do with his weekends. I peered around and spotted his unmistakable head. “But first we’ve got a job to do.”</p><p>“…What you want me to do?” muttered Seunghyun when I’d collected him and was leading him over to an elegant middle-aged woman in black.</p><p>“Look amazing and praise the show,” I repeated out of the corner of my mouth. “Hi, Ms. Go!” I exclaimed in my chirpiest tones, bearing down on her with Seunghyun in tow. Once she’d clocked who I was she gave me a smile: Go Wonhee was always very fond of bubbly pretty boys, a fact I’d exploited over the years ‘til she finally started taking me seriously.</p><p>“Jiyong, darling.” We air-kissed, the latest American-import fad; I could feel Seunghyun goggling at my back. I gave her a glass of champagne (strategic) and proceeded to very accurately praise the show; after all, she’d been the director of the whole thing. “And who’s your friend?” she inquired once I’d wound down. I’d seen her sneaking glances at Seunghyun, who was hovering by my hip, and each time she looked it was with more approval. This woman had the best taste in South Korea, and it was showing. I took a bracing breath.</p><p>“This is Choi Seunghyun, ma’am.” A minute narrowing of her eyes: crap, she <em>did</em> know who he was. I gave Seunghyun a surreptitious tap on the leg to make him say something.</p><p>“It’s great to meet you,” said my problem child in a suspiciously suave and normal tone. Mmm, that voice! “I’ve enjoyed your work so much – tonight especially.” So far, so appropriate.</p><p>“You approved of the design themes?” Ms. Go asked, giving him a good look up and down with a practiced eye.</p><p>“Oh, yeah!” began Seunghyun with what I considered to be too much eagerness. “It was so <em>otherworldly</em>; it reminded me of-” I aimed a brief kick at his ankle, Christ knew what he’d been about to compare it with, probably some obscure <em>Star Trek</em> episode. “Of…er…a painting I saw,” he finished, going pink. Yeah, I’d been right. “Maybe a Picasso.” Seunghyun wisely subsided, but I was starting to feel like a circus trainer with a performing seal.</p><p>“Well. That’s gratifying to hear.” Ms. Go paused, and before Seunghyun could decide to fill the gap by inquiring after her experiences with things that go bump in the night I jumped back in and asked her to tell us about her new project. I knew perfectly well that she was putting together the show for the upcoming Ralph Lauren collection, and as most artists do when you get them going she loved having a captive audience: she regaled us with the details while I made the requisite admiring noises (to be fair, it did sound amazing) and trod on Seunghyun’s foot every so often so he’d make them too. I was pleased to see her examining him, her interest growing with every minute he didn’t mention Bigfoot.</p><p>“You’ll be casting the usual lineup?” I asked; we both knew who I meant, there were a limited number of Korean models who could handle international designer looks, so you got used to seeing the same faces mixed with the foreign talent.</p><p>“Soojoo, of course,” she said to please me. I beamed at her. “I’ll do an open call to the agencies too, you never know when the next hot thing will pop up.” Another pause. “But,” she added confidentially, and I held my breath; “if Mr. Choi wants to send his portfolio round I think we could let him skip the line…”</p><p>“That’d be <em>great</em>,” I gushed. Beside me Seunghyun was actually smiling, half with obvious surprise but partly with what looked like actual pleasure. I trod on him again.</p><p>“I’d love to!” Fortunately when it came to modelling he was unlikely to get so enthusiastic as to slide into his manic mode, and he merely looked humble and hot when she reached for his hand.</p><p>“You’ll send your pictures by courier, won’t you,” I instructed him.</p><p>“Yeah!” Rein it back, rein it back, I told him silently; he glanced down at me and I could tell he understood. “Thanks so much,” he said pleasantly. Ms. Go smiled – I knew she’d have her eye on him in case this normal behavior had been a blip. Still, his pictures would speak for themselves, and if he could possibly contrive not to blurt out anything eerie or goblin-related during the rehearsals he might actually start to mend his dismal reputation and get himself off the industry blacklist – and be able to afford his new monster-hunting tech.</p><p>Thank <em>you</em>,” said Seunghyun after the director had left, slightly tipsy on her heels and looking back at him with (professional) anticipation. He lifted his leg and wriggled his abused toes, but gave me a dose of the smile: not awkward anymore but the genuine, vaguely nuts expression that made his entire face light up. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” He knew damn well no-one else would have, poor thing. “But it was really…just really nice that you did.”</p><p>“Well,” I replied, preening and enjoying my view from the moral high ground for a change, “now you can save up for your camera. And since you were such a good boy-” He snorted. “-Next time we’ll do what <em>you</em> want: I’ll spend the night up a mountain – just the two of us.” Seunghyun ducked his head; but he looked very gratified indeed.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so now you probably have an idea as to which direction the 'nerdiness' tag is going to take. And I'm not gonna lie, this fic is going to get...odd. And dorky, because lately I've become super interested in paranormal/true crime/occult stuff. That's all thanks to my top fave comedy podcast, 'Last Podcast on the Left', which deals with all those topics. I love it so much I've made one of the hosts, Henry, into a character here :)</p><p>    Basically, this story will contain a lot of fascinating but utterly useless information along with the budding romance. Just FYI! I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. Let me know what you think...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong gets a crash-course in paranormal fandom, with mixed results.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” I panted, humping my huge rucksack higher as we rounded a corner on the scenic mountain path, “what is it about this place that keeps you coming back?”</p><p>Seunghyun had driven us out to Seoraksan the next Saturday afternoon (he couldn’t possibly go on Friday, he had ‘a meeting’ – I wisely didn’t inquire). It’d taken three hours in his beat-up Hyundai Presto, plus stopping for noodles and gas. Happily for him I was still in a good mood: he’d booked the Ralph Lauren show, something he’d never have managed without my meddling, and the fact made a beautiful day even more satisfactory. I trailed my hand out of the open window, feeling the air grow fresh as we approached the mountain. Seunghyun had shaken his head at my clothes – he seemed to think that if something was stylish it couldn’t possibly be practical. Well, now I was showing him: I always tried to stay in shape and my imported hiking boots were top of the line, so I was keeping up. Just about. I’d never heard Seunghyun mention the gym but he must be doing <em>something</em> ‘cos we were halfway through our climb and he wasn’t even winded.</p><p>“Oh,” said Seunghyun merrily, “it’s just nice to get out of the city, and I know some good hikes up here that most of the tourists haven’t found. Peace and beauty: everyone needs that.”</p><p>“…And?” I puffed, dropping down to use my hands on an awkward turn in the trail where rocks had piled high. He kindly paused and waited for my shorter legs to catch up.</p><p>“And there’re some KUFOS records from the Seventies…”</p><p>“Of…course there are!” I managed (contriving to insert some sarcasm while I gasped for breath). Seunghyun cast an amused and somewhat supercilious look my way, then strode back down the path to the steep bit and offered me his hand. Never one to turn away a leg-up, I took it; his hands <em>were</em> warm. My fingers looked pale within his. It was a look I liked, I’d always loved to see my boyfriends’ strong digits and broad palms against my body. <em>Jesus Christ</em>, I told myself, clambering up and letting go quickly, <em>get a grip</em>! And <em>not</em> on him. If Seunghyun had noticed the way I’d been looking at our joined hands he didn’t mention it.</p><p>“Seems there was a minor flap here about ten years ago,” he continued as if that small physical interlude hadn’t happened. He nodded to my backpack. “Want me to carry it for a bit?” I ignored that – I might be a princess but I wasn’t a wimp.</p><p>“What’s a ‘flap’?”</p><p>“Like, an intense wave of UFO activity.”</p><p>“Why not just say ‘wave’, then?” He shrugged. “You all wanna sound mysterious, right? Like <em>specialists</em>.”</p><p>“We are!” I shook my head at him; he poked his tongue out at me. Man-child, I confirmed to myself, smirking. Squabbling mildly, we hiked on.</p><p> </p><p>The sun was already setting when we reached our vantage point and my legs were pretty much jelly. I collapsed on the broad patch of dry, mossy earth Seunghyun indicated; twenty feet in front of us the ground fell away, and the vista beyond that was breathtaking. I could see why he came back every month.</p><p>“Here.” Seunghyun tossed his camping rucksack down beside me. “Get the sleeping bags out, make yourself at home.” He uncapped his fancy military-style binoculars and began to survey the landscape and the distant pink sky. For a minute I sat watching him, his long, strong legs and goddamn cagoule, the way the breeze pushed his hair away from his flawless face.</p><p>“Are we meant to be up here at night?” I asked when I’d had enough to be going on with. Seunghyun, after he’d wandered off to pee in private, had rejoined me and was spreading out one of the waterproof blankets I’d brought on the moss in front of a large rock we could recline against, setting more aside for later and delving into his backpack to retrieve some rice balls, a thermos of what smelled like coffee, and a vast and ridiculous white padded coat.</p><p>“No-one ever comes checking,” he replied. “I hike back down in the morning and none of the rangers bat an eyelid. The military don’t often come this far out – although it’s pretty interesting that they choose to do exercises <em>here</em>, don’tcha think? Especially when you consider how many people just <em>disappear</em> in national parks.” In the interests of avoiding a rant about Army conspiracies and little green men I decided to ignore that unsettling comment.</p><p>“How the hell did you get that thing in there?” I said instead, pointing at the coat that had emerged like a conjuring trick from the bag. Seunghyun thrust his arms in and was swallowed up. “Looks like a straitjacket!” He gave me the finger, barely visible in the long sleeves. “Apt,” I added snidely. He got his notebook out and leaned against the rock. “So, what happens now?”</p><p>“We relax and watch the skies.”</p><p>“All night?”</p><p>“As long as you can,” he told me in an easy tone. “I don’t expect <em>you</em> to have the focus of a pro.”</p><p>“And what’m I watching for, may I ask?”</p><p>“Anything unusual,” Seunghyun said, suddenly earnest. “Moving lights, colours, blank spots – not only in the sky, on the mountains around us too. I can tell you if it’s a shooting star or a plane or…or something else.”</p><p>“All right.” I didn’t object to a bit of stargazing, and in another hour it’d be too dark to see that beautiful face anyway. (I’d brought a flashlight and extra batteries, of course – I’m not a horror movie victim.) But before that it was time to deal with my grumbling stomach. Let Seunghyun keep his balls (hah): I’d made my own preparations.</p><p>I smoothed out the blanket and removed the small vintage picnic case from my rucksack – baby-blue wicker, 1950s Americana. (See, it wasn’t that I had less stamina than Seunghyun, I’d been lugging a mobile restaurant up the mountain! I hadn’t known it’d be <em>quite</em> so far…) As I set out the pretty canapes, plates, glasses, I noticed Seunghyun staring at me in the unflattering way I usually stared at<em> him</em> – which was to say, like I had a screw loose.</p><p>“What?” I inquired. He didn’t say anything, just threw up his hands in exaggerated disbelief, so I produced the bottle of good warming red I’d stashed under my scarf. Maybe Seunghyun thought this spread was too…romantic or something? Well, if so I wouldn’t correct him. Not that I was thinking about him in that way, not seriously – almost everything that came out of Seunghyun’s mouth was more evidence he was <em>not</em> boyfriend material – but it was a constant temptation to see if this handsome goof even understood the concept of flirting.</p><p>“We shouldn’t drink,” said Seunghyun, sounding embarrassed but also primly disapproving, like a dad chaperoning a teenage slumber party. He flipped open his dog-eared notebook and stuck a pencil behind his perfect ear. “It’ll make all our data unreliable.” I defiantly popped the cork.</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>An hour later I was on the way to being drunk – I needed to keep warm, I reasoned. Seunghyun had had one glass and gone back to his triple-strength coffee so as to be ready for any revelatory ‘phone home’ sightings that might occur. We were reclining shoulder to shoulder against the smooth surface of the stone, eyes fixed on the stars and the pale rising moon. It <em>was</em> kinda romantic, I decided, if you left out the actual reason we’d come up here. Seunghyun was telling me about the 1980 Rendlesham Forest Incident, which was a combination of military horror, a drunken Christmas party, and wiggedy close encounters of the third kind.</p><p>“Of the second kind,” Seunghyun corrected me.</p><p>“Hmm.” I yawned comfortably.</p><p>“There are five categories of UFO encounter – CEs, we call them,” he began. I yawned more audibly and he piped down; what, did he think I was gonna take notes?</p><p>“Which kind made the other KUFOS guys such social diamonds?”</p><p>“Between them they’ve had everything.” Seunghyun sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Including being shagged by a female Grey with six breasts.” I didn’t even attempt to conceal my own snigger.</p><p>“Goddammit, how can you take these guys seriously?!” Seunghyun reached down to pull another thermal blanket over our knees. “I mean, come on…you’re not an idiot. Much.” He fiddled with the hem, then sighed.</p><p>“Look, it’s true a few of them are kooks, and the older ones exaggerate. But we’re a <em>community</em>, the only one I’ve got, and we’re doing something important – I know it.” He nudged me with his shoulder, no longer laughing. “I told you: I <em>want</em> to believe.” I bit my lip.</p><p>“Seunghyun, have you ever actually <em>seen</em> anything?”</p><p>“…No,” he admitted. Typical. In the faint moonlight I watched his handsome jaw tighten. “Daesung says I want it too much.”</p><p>“What, so the paranormal is just fucking with you?” How very, very sad, I thought, trying not to laugh this time; Seunghyun looked so crestfallen.</p><p>“Maybe. Depends on its nature, doesn’t it,” he said with more optimism. “Whether these are completely objective phenomena, or trickster god shit, or whether they need <em>us</em>, our subjectivity, our human filter to make them manifest.”</p><p>“What ‘these’?” I demanded, waving my hand at the sky. All it contained right now was a thin crescent moon. As usual I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him and his cute puppydog enthusiasm or smack him over the head with his own notebook every time he started spouting that hippie bollocks. “There’s nothing <em>out</em> there, ba-” Shit; I almost called him ‘baby’ – the sympathy factor must be getting to me (or maybe the Cabernet Sauvignon). “There’s just…nothing out there,” I said more kindly; thank God he was staring at the sky too hard to really be paying attention. “Nothing but us.” He turned and looked at me solemnly then, just for a moment, and I caught my breath, half worried and half hoping that this was the start of something I still wasn’t sure I wanted. Then he returned his gaze to the heavens. I exhaled slowly – wishful thinking.</p><p>“If that’s true, it’s true,” he said at last; he didn’t sound angry. Maybe wistful. “But I kinda hope it isn’t.”</p><p>“…Then I guess I hope so too.” I don’t know why I said it; only, in that moment, I wanted him to be happy. A silence fell, but it was companionable. The temperature sank with the night and before long I began to shiver. We were close enough that he could feel it.</p><p>“Idiot,” muttered Seunghyun in a low voice, breaking the stillness. “That stupid high-fashion excuse for a jacket you’re wearing; you’ve got no common sense, have you?”</p><p>“Pot and kettle,” I said; but my teeth were starting to chatter. Seunghyun didn’t even pause, just shrugged out of a sleeve of his monstrous white coat and wrapped one side of the garment around me; the thick layers of fabric held his warmth, and beneath that his arm curled heavily across my shoulder.</p><p>“C’mere, dummy,” he said, no doubt enjoying some revenge for the number of times I’d called him names. He tugged me against his side, so matter-of-factly that I had no qualms about capitulating. He drew the blankets higher around us and pulled my wool hat further over my ears. “I’ll get you some coffee,” he offered; his deep voice vibrated through his ribcage into mine. “Keep watch.” I did as he asked, idly, then drank the hot coffee, enjoying the feeling of platonic intimacy that had been absent from my life for some time.</p><p>We lounged there observing the blaze of stars, the planes that crossed in a blink of lights (Seunghyun didn’t bat an eyelid so I knew what they were). Occasionally he lent me his binoculars and I could see the constellations up close, the luminous texture of that slice of moon. He narrated a series of UFO stories and the teachings of key investigators, his voice dropping to a murmur as the deep night drew in. Emboldened by the wine and the certain knowledge that this was just a boys’ camping trip, I slid my own arm round Seunghyun’s back beneath the coat. I was warm and cosy all over. It was too dark to see his eyes crinkle up behind his binoculars; but I could tell he was smiling.</p><p> </p><p>When I woke up it was light. I opened my eyes to the violet sky and rising sun, and the landscape spread out below me. There was a light breeze, and I was freezing.</p><p>“Morning,” came a voice from above me. I turned, and woke up all the way at the shock of finding my head pillowed in Seunghyun’s lap. He was sitting with a blanket draped round his shoulders, and his huge white coat was – I patted myself down – was spread over me. I decided I was too stiff to move for the moment so lay where I was, huddled in the chrysalis of my sleeping bag.</p><p>“See anything?” I asked drowsily. He shook his head but didn’t look disappointed; I guessed this was standard for him.</p><p>“You probably scared ‘em off with your snoring.” He smiled, and I extracted one hand to give him the finger.</p><p>“Ha ha.” Okay; this was nice but it was starting to be weird, in the sense that it felt too <em>natural</em>: like we were lovers bickering in bed on a Sunday morning. Time to wake up. “Sorry I fell asleep on you,” I said (although I wasn’t). Seunghyun helped me sit up and I smoothed my pink hair down before sticking my beanie back on – no need for him to see my bedhead.</p><p>“Doesn’t matter. I had a nice time anyway. There’s no rush: one day I’ll see something.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” I rubbed at my arms beneath the coat. It was shaping up to be a pleasant spring day but I was chilled to the bone.</p><p>“Wanna walk down and go into town?” Seunghyun suggested. He reached for his bag and passed me a flask of water and a banana, good Boy Scout that he was.</p><p>“Hot spring?” I asked eagerly.</p><p>“Sure.” My frozen face cracked a smile. We packed up and loaded ourselves, then began the three-hour trek down the mountain.</p><p>By the time we reached the car Seoraksan had woken up and opened to the public. The sense of being alone with Seunghyun in the awesome sprawl of nature vanished, and I found I kinda missed it; but at least I’d warmed up. We drove into Sokcho, where Seunghyun took me to Cheoksan Hot Spring, a pleasant hotel with all the public baths and jjimjilbang my pampered ass could desire. Seunghyun said he wanted to make some notes (about what?), so I went into the baths ahead of him and was deprived of the pleasure of seeing his (surely godlike) nudity. Perhaps that was the point – and perhaps it was for the best.</p><p>I lay dissolving in the hot water ‘til I was nothing but pure relaxation, and thought about things. Despite our short acquaintance I was beginning to enjoy Seunghyun very much; not just his looks but being close to him in general; even talking with him. Sometimes. That was the kicker, though, wasn’t it: I didn’t know how long I could hang around without him driving me up the wall; he wasn’t stupid but he <em>was</em> ridiculous, and I imagined that if we…I dunno, <em>lived together</em> (an unpardonable flight of fancy) or even saw each other on a frequent basis I might go stir-crazy and end up disliking him and his dippy bullshit. And I didn’t want that to happen – I <em>wanted</em> to like him.</p><p>Jesus, what did it matter anyway? He’d shown zero sign that he even swung my way.</p><p>Seunghyun must’ve waited ‘til I went for my massage before taking his own bath; he probably didn’t want me to see him naked, or at the very least didn’t care about seeing me that way. So there was clearly no desperate attraction on his part. <em>Okay</em>, I thought, as I melted under the hands of the masseur, <em>friends it is for now</em>; if we could handle each other that long.</p><p>It was evening by the time we’d had our friendly lunch and our friendly drive back to Seoul. On the way back we had a friendly discussion (i.e. Seunghyun lectured me) on Betty and Barney Hill, Unidentified Submerged Objects, and the Puerto Rican chupacabra. Friends at <em>best</em>, I decided as we drove through Gangnam, almost incapacitated by the overload of information that could only make me dumber. I told Seunghyun he could drop me off anywhere but he insisted on taking me to my door, which meant he now knew where I lived. That was fine, wasn’t it? Should I invite him up? God knew what else he’d find to talk about if I did. So I didn’t.</p><p>“Thanks,” I told him. “Contrary to…well, everything, I actually had a good time.”</p><p>“Good!” said Seunghyun, still on fire with his passion for CE-4 abduction scenarios. Hopefully he’d got it somewhat out of his system and wouldn’t bring it up during any of his Ralph Lauren gigs. I debated giving him a list of topics he <em>was</em> allowed to talk about in front of fashion executives; maybe I’d make one to give him next time, though I didn’t know when that would be.</p><p>“So…see ya,” I said at last, clambering out of the passenger seat.</p><p>“Wanna come out with me again?” he asked quickly as I was closing the door – as if he’d been wondering the same thing. I glanced at him sharply: he looked eager enough that if it were any other man I’d be flattered. And yeah, I knew that plenty of the guys who flattered me tended to have an ulterior motive – but compared to the simpletons who merely wanted to get in my pants, Seunghyun’s was (no pun intended) a little harder to swallow. “I want you to meet Daesung,” he explained at my change in expression. “You know, my friend?” Oh.</p><p>“Seunghyun, I <em>cannot</em> sit through another UFO meeting.” I had to draw the line somewhere.</p><p>“Not that.” Was he trying to be reassuring? “I promise: Dae’s different. You’ll like him.”</p><p>“O-<em>kay</em>,” I agreed with probably too much alacrity. Ahh, but it was worth it to see the glow that lit up his face whenever I (grudgingly) agreed to get involved in his dorkiness. Was he that starved for company – or was it that he particularly wanted to see <em>me</em>? Ugh; I really needed to get a handle on myself.</p><p>“Awesome! I’ll call you.” He waved to me as I shut the door. When I turned back at the entrance to my apartment building he was still waving. I went home very pleased with myself: it’d been a strange and dweeby but undeniably pleasant weekend.</p><p>My one slip-up was not interrogating him more about our next meeting; but I would soon learn my lesson.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“You coming to Bae’s dinner party Friday?” Soojoo inquired on my answering machine. Her tone made it sound like an order, and knowing her it probably was. “The Dallas Cowboys are doing a Korean USO tour and somehow he’s managed to invite half of them – you know him and his sports. Call me back!” I did so reluctantly.</p><p>“…I can’t make it,” I confessed. I could almost hear Soojoo pulling a face down the line.</p><p>“Why not?! Have you <em>seen</em> those guys? All big and buff and blue-eyed.”</p><p>“Sorry,” I said; and then, attempting to downplay it, “not my type anyway.” (They absolutely were.) Thing was, I’d been reserved for that night by someone hotter – even if I ought not to admit it. My charming friend scoffed at me. “All the more for you, no?” I added.</p><p>“Aww, Youngbae was looking forward to showing off for you,” she cajoled. “He just had his kitchen redone.”</p><p>“He can have me over for brunch anytime.”</p><p>“So!” demanded Soojoo acerbically, “what’ve you got planned that beats gourmet food and hot dudes, huh?”</p><p>“Uhh…a deadline.”</p><p>“Bullshit!”</p><p>“No, honestly,” I lied. “London <em>Vogue</em> asked me to write a small submission; if they like it I might get published, and who knows what it might lead to?”</p><p>“Hmmm.” Soojoo sounded sceptical, and rightly so: my star hadn’t risen <em>that</em> high yet. (Still, I could dream, couldn’t I?) “Okay. Excuse accepted – for now. But whoever he is, he’d better be worth it!” Goddammit. I laughed awkwardly and ended the call. Soojoo had been the first to warn me off Seunghyun, after all. How could I tell her I was blowing off my buddy’s glittering soiree to go meet the Seoul Ghost Society?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Seunghyun told me to wait for him after his shift at the bookstore, outside a bar in Seodaemun near Independence Gate. This was a promising beginning – compared to the KUFOS venue, anyway – and so the smile I gave him as he rolled up was only slightly dubious.</p><p>“How many of ‘em are there?” I interrogated him, keenly (though belatedly) wishing to know what I was letting myself in for.</p><p>“Depends on the night. Around the same number as us, usually.”</p><p>“And what do they do, exactly?” Seunghyun snorted.</p><p>“Mostly eat.” I decided I liked the sound of them already, as paranormal groups go, but I was naturally still on my guard as Seunghyun led me up the rickety stairs to the bar. It was an old-fashioned establishment, I saw at a glance, but I’ll be charitable and call it retro. The master and the barmaid looked fairly normal – ah, and there was the ghost contingent, you couldn’t miss the sensible outerwear and lack of attention to hairstyling.</p><p>“<em>Hyung</em>!” a voice cried happily from the middle of the collective; there were about seven of them, if I recall. A man around my age, tall and surprisingly neatly dressed, detached himself from the others and bounded up to Seunghyun, who slung an arm round him fondly.</p><p>“Dae, this is Kwon Jiyong.” The young man turned his attention to me – his smile made his small eyes look smaller; nevertheless, it was infectious: I found myself smiling back. “Jiyong, this is my friend Kang Daesung. He’s the SGS treasurer.”</p><p>“You can imagine what a prestigious post that is,” Daesung said, with what (after a few seconds) I realized was actual humour.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” I said politely. “Er…what does that entail?”</p><p>“Mainly cutting off their tabs before they get paralytic.” Daesung jerked his thumb good-naturedly at his comrades; they were eating fried chicken untidily, obviously deep in the earnest kind of argument I’d witnessed at my last meeting. The big difference was the forest of liquor bottles that littered their table.</p><p>“I thought alcohol was supposed to mess with your ‘results’,” I observed; beside me Seunghyun was looking stuffy.</p><p>“Oh, that’s just the UFO groups!” Daesung explained, materializing a glass of soju from somewhere and thrusting it merrily into my hand. “Always so serious. <em>We’re</em> the fun ones.” Seunghyun sniffed but grabbed a drink for himself, moving me further in so we could find seats. I raised my eyebrows – so much for Mr. Reliable Data!</p><p>“To be honest, I’ve never been that invested in ghosts,” he told me, bending to direct his pleasant rumble into my ear. Daesung overheard and wrinkled his nose at us, little eyes disappearing. I shrugged and clinked my glass against Seunghyun’s; it was still better than KUFOS.</p><p>From there the evening went on very much as you’d imagine. I had no idea what anyone was talking about and they were altogether too excited to explain sensibly. Still, by then I was tipsy enough that I didn’t care, not even when my mention of Casper drew a snooty silence from the nerds with the biggest anoraks. Beside me Seunghyun was giggling. Still, no-one got a Ouija board out or suggested a séance, so comparatively speaking it was a regular (if bog-standard) boys’ night on the town.</p><p>“Okay!” announced the group leader (you can always tell, it’s the one with the most badges on his gilet) at around ten-thirty. “Time to go set up.”</p><p>“Is there an after-party?” I asked, with what I should’ve known was hopeless optimism.</p><p>“If that’s what you want to call it!” Daesung grabbed a heavy-looking duffle bag from under the table and gestured us to follow him. “We’re off to document some phenomena.”</p><p>“What’s that now?” I said; I’d had several drinks, which might explain why I wasn’t fully on the ball but didn’t excuse my lapse in wariness. Seunghyun clapped me on the shoulder and we left the bar in file; from just behind me his amused voice replied:</p><p>“We’re gonna hunt some ghosts.”</p><p> </p><p>I walked with Daesung towards the ‘haunted house’ or wherever the hell we were supposed to be spending the best part of my night. (Yeah, I know I could’ve gone home and got my beauty sleep; what can I say, vodka’s a hell of a drug.) I was snubbing Seunghyun for being selective with the truth – ‘spooky chat over dinner’ was a far cry from ‘yell at imaginary gwisin for three interminable hours in an abandoned house with no toilet’ – and besides, Daesung had collared me and he was too nice a person for me to be rude to him (yet).</p><p>“How long have you known Seunghyun?” I asked, throwing a glower over my shoulder at the jerk in question: he looked ashamed, but only just. Daesung gave me his default grin.</p><p>“We met years ago through Henry – you know who I mean?”</p><p>“Hard not to.” Daesung laughed as I rolled my eyes.</p><p>“I take it you’ve been blessed with the KUFOS brand of hospitality.”</p><p>“Is that really the standard?” I asked as we strolled in step towards Dongnimmun Station on the new Line 3. “I mean…<em>you’re</em> normal.”</p><p>“Comparatively speaking,” said Daesung.</p><p>“I’ll be honest,” I admitted, “if you’d told me two months ago I’d be making friends with an alien obsessive who chooses his clothes based entirely on pocket size so as never to be parted from his field notebook…I’d’ve probably spat on your shoes.”</p><p>“Aww, he’s not that bad!” He proclaimed this loudly, I think he was as squiffy as me. I took a quick glance behind but Seunghyun was still some way away. I was glad: I had no qualms about badmouthing his lifestyle to his face but I didn’t wanna hurt him by visibly bitching behind his back.</p><p>“What makes him any different from those uptight UFO dorks?” I challenged Daesung. “Apart from his looks, obviously.”</p><p>“You really haven’t noticed?”</p><p>“…He’s just such a <em>nerd</em>!” We both looked back this time: Seunghyun was lolloping along in conversation with two of the college-age SGS members, shoving his glasses up his nose every few seconds. Nerd indeed; but even in this group of (relatively) socially advanced geeks he shone. Was it more than his face and fantastic body that made him stand out?</p><p>“When it comes to the world of the weird,” Daesung assured me after we’d both stared long enough to make the poor bastard notice and start to look paranoid, “Seunghyun’s actually a bit of a renaissance man: logical, broad of thinking, interested in everything: aliens, ghosts, cryptids – and the connections between them. That’s a rarity, you know; the paranormal groups are very <em>cliquey</em>.” I raised my eyebrows. “Trust me,” said Daesung. “If we had any women in our circle he’d be considered a catch!”</p><p>“You don’t, though.”</p><p>“Well, not right now, no.”</p><p>“So it’s a bit of a low bar.” Daesung grinned at me, strengthening my pleasant impression that here was a guy who didn’t take himself too seriously, and I found myself smiling back. And when Seunghyun finally shuffled up to join us on the platform, all handsome and badly styled and earnest, I decided I could at least <em>try</em> seeing him the way his friend saw him. Maybe. Later – if I let him survive the night.</p><p> </p><p>We got off at Anguk station and were soon lost (as far as I was concerned) among the old hanok houses of Bukchon Village. I had to hand it to these guys, they couldn’t have picked a location geared more to spooking themselves. This was before the area had been restored and preserved as a cultural site, and the streets were dark and narrow beneath the traditional curving eaves that blocked out the moonlight, hills and rough pavement just waiting to trip you up. Some of the houses looked haunted right from the get-go: they seemed abandoned, crumbling (though Daesung later told me half of that was down to some dumb but decidedly un-spooky renovation code hoo-ha between the Government and the local council). At last the grizzled leader, a Mr. Hong, led us down a backstreet and up to a long, low structure.</p><p>“It belonged to a wealthy rice merchant,” Daesung told me; his voice had dropped to a whisper. It was the kind of place you didn’t want to be loud in, not out of any particular reverence but because it seemed somehow…unsafe. Then again, I was basing that entirely on the fact that the street was pitch black and by the sounds of it one of the members had already twisted his ankle looking for an out-of-the-way corner to piss in. There was a mass rustling, then eight flashlights appeared (guess who didn’t bring one).</p><p>“Are we even allowed in here?” I murmured to Seunghyun as we passed the tumble-down outer wall and climbed the steps. This seemed more…I dunno, more serious than evading the mountain rangers on Seoraksan. Or perhaps more risky. I got my answer when the SGS leader produced an old key and began to jiggle it about in a padlock on an equally ancient wooden door; I almost expected it to fall off its hinges, thank goodness this wasn’t some historical asset. The door eventually opened onto a yawning void of nothing.</p><p>“Mr. Hong has connections with the local cops,” observed Daesung happily as I eyed it without enthusiasm. “They got the key off the owner for us so don’t worry – no-one’s gonna come bother us.” <em>Not</em> what I was worrying about. I hung back. It wasn’t my fault, nobody had warned me in advance that we were going ghost-bothering and I hadn’t got round to admitting to Seunghyun that I was, in fact, kind of a wuss when it came to horror.</p><p>“Come on.” In the dimness I felt Seunghyun take my wrist, firm but careful. I think that despite his general obliviousness he was aware I wasn’t one hundred percent thrilled with this. “Stick next to me, okay? Here, you can borrow my torch.” And he drew me inside.</p><p>I felt better clutching that little cylinder of light (though his further description of it as a ‘tactical flashlight’ made me roll my eyes in the blackness). The floor was bare earth under our feet as we stepped through the entrance, I could feel its softness, but in my nervousness I forgot to worry about my shoes just yet. In the torch’s beam I could see a wide raftered space that must be the storehouse, then an opening that probably led to what had long ago been the family dwelling. The high walls were littered with graffiti (obviously the key wasn’t strictly necessary to get in) – tags, a couple of anti-regime political slogans (the shyer kind of dissident), random doodles and numbers: 31, 69 (hah), 93, repeated over and over by some paint-wielding obsessive. The SGS collectively tutted at the sight. One of the ghost-hunters had a plan of the house, so we left the graffiti and followed him in. To my great pleasure (and some relief) Seunghyun was still holding my wrist.</p><p>“Here’s the pantry,” called the map-holder softly after we’d navigated several rooms, all empty or tenanted only by decaying household debris (and probably a million mice, ugh). He stopped and we all bundled up around him. There was some interested whispering as everyone shone their flashlights around the small space; you could see where food would’ve been stored, and the entrance to the kitchen. From a historical perspective it was kind of interesting: this would have been women’s territory, a domain all their own with its own secrets and rivalries and affairs that never get written about in the history books. I tried to imagine cooking in hanbok (I’d have set fire to myself after about five minutes, I concluded). Once it would have been warm and smelled good here. Now, in the dark, crowded with eight shuffling dorks (and one fashion icon), it felt…sad.</p><p>“What’re we expecting?” asked Seunghyun in a low but enthusiastic tone.</p><p>“We’ll do a setup in here.” One of the college kids put his equipment bag down. “Another in the second bedroom in the female quarters; they’re meant to be the hotspots.”</p><p>“What’s that?” I inquired. In the torchlight I saw the young man give me a pitying look (shove it, kid, no-one normal knows about this shit!); but like all paranormal so-called experts he loved to show off.</p><p>“The places with the most reported activity,” he explained. “Sounds, unexplained breezes or shadows, apportation, manifestations. There’ve been quite a few stories about this place but no-one’s ever managed to document any evidence.”</p><p>“We never do,” whispered Daesung resignedly on my other side. The student glared at him. I refrained from pointing out the obvious, which was that any creepy sounds were probably from rodents or an unfortunate homeless person who was hard-up enough to make this place their best option.</p><p>“But we did find proof that stuff happened in these two rooms,” the young man continued undeterred. “One of the sons died in that bedroom, way back in the Forties: they say a Japanese cop beat him and fractured his skull. And not much later a maid hanged herself right here.” I shivered and edged closer to Seunghyun. “There’s gossip she was his lover, but that’s just conjecture,” the student added. I liked the pantry even less now; no wonder it felt sad.</p><p>“Let’s get going, then,” ordered the leader. “Midnight’s the opportune time!” Seunghyun and I backed up against the wall and let them get on with it. Apparently ghost-hunting was a highly scientific operation. After five minutes’ juggling with cassette recorders and cumbersome video cameras (Seunghyun’s heart’s desire) I got tired of watching them. I found myself both nervy and bored, an unpleasant combination, but I sure wasn’t about to go wandering off. Instead I turned to examine the splintered shutters beside my head and found an area of missing wood just large enough to see through into the empty courtyard at the centre of the hanok. The moon was up now, casting a welcome blanket of silver light across the ground. Everything looked peaceful out there.</p><p>I turned back when an empty space and silence at my side indicated that Seunghyun had abandoned me. The setup seemed to be finished and everyone had crowded round the leader, all cooing and oohing over some revolutionary new contraption they called an EMF meter (so many goddamn acronyms in the paranormal, I swear it’s deliberate). Even Seunghyun, ‘not invested’ in spirits as he claimed, looked fascinated. I hunkered down on my heels and propped my chin in my hands, back against the wall ‘til they got sick of it and started actually doing something.</p><p>“Okay,” Mr. Hong instructed us, clutching his precious wossname to his chest while the others looked on in envy, “three groups of three: one in here, one in the bedroom, one for a roving patrol. We’ll shift round every hour.” I promptly placed myself next to Seunghyun – no way was I gonna be left with these people. “Daesung, go with them,” said the leader, nodding at us. So off we went.</p><p>For the first hour we lurked in the bedroom. Nothing but its position on the plans gave any clue it had been used as such; it was empty and mouldy and I was pretty sure I was allergic to some of it. Every time I sneezed Daesung (who was at the recorder with headphones on) would jump excitedly; then he and Seunghyun would sigh.</p><p>“Don’t blame me!” I told them grouchily. Seunghyun passed me a tissue. I guess my inconvenient reaction scared all the ghoulies and ghosts away, ‘cos the equipment caught nothing and our ears didn’t do any better. At least I’d quit feeling scared and was now simply bored again.</p><p>After that we were relieved by the roving patrol and took their place. Walking through the dilapidated dwelling was still kind of spooky, though my fear was more about falling through some rotten floorboards than encountering any gwisin. Still, why should I take the chance?</p><p>“I’m not going in front!” I announced.</p><p>“But you’ve got the tactical flashlight.”</p><p>“The guy in front is the first to walk into danger!” Now Seunghyun was laughing at me.</p><p>“In fact,” opined Daesung, “it’s usually the guy at the back who gets picked off silently without the others noticing.” Oh, these two were definitely having fun.</p><p>“Fuck you both, then, I’m going in the middle!” They sniggered and let me.</p><p>The old house was large and in hindsight quite cool, or at least it would’ve been by daylight. I whiled away the hour of exercise by dreamily populating it with furniture and costumed characters from a period drama: the rich merchant family and the handsome revolutionary son and the pretty maid. I could almost see them. Daesung and Seunghyun would drop by the two equipped rooms every circuit and check in – not that we had anything to report but my idle fantasies. One of the guys in the pantry had heard a noise but they were pretty sure it was just a bird outside. Another said he felt cold, but didn’t we all? I concluded that I much preferred the stunning scenery and cosy unhushed chat of craft-spotting up the mountain – see, I was feeling more charitable toward Seunghyun already.</p><p>Our final shift led us back to the pantry. Mr. Hong’s group left and Daesung went to check the recorders while my handsome friend stationed himself in a corner that gave a view of the room and the kitchen doorway. I plopped down on my heels beside him; thinking about the story of this room I felt its melancholy again. I wondered if it was true.</p><p>“This one’s definitely got an aura, huh,” muttered Seunghyun; he had his notebook out. I reluctantly passed him the torch so he could write. Across the room Daesung nodded, microphone at the ready.</p><p>“Is anybody there?” he asked hopefully, as he’d done in every room. “We’re not here to disturb you – just give us a sign.” Nothing: only the quiet dark. The two paranormal experts subsided into low whispers and observations (of what?), while I peered around the room and waited for the hour to be up. I was looking forward to it, I couldn’t deny: I was tired, far more tired than if I’d been partying all night, and my bed was calling. The time was passing so slowly, but for whatever reason in this room, with almost everyone else gone, I couldn’t get comfortable enough to stay bored. Daesung was now tipsily telling ghost stories, which didn’t make things any better. To be honest I’d never really considered my own belief in spirits. I thought of myself as a lapsed Protestant, and generally scoffed at tabloid stories of hauntings; but I was scared enough of horror movies, wasn’t I? Maybe…maybe I <em>did</em> believe in something. It all seemed more likely here, now. The only thing that calmed me was peering through the shutters at the whiteness of the moonlit courtyard.</p><p>“What was that?” asked Daesung in the silence. I twitched.</p><p>“What’s what?” inquired Seunghyun, eager pencil poised as he gazed around. Daesung was pressing the headphones against his ear, frowning. At last he said:</p><p>“Nothing. I just thought I heard voices.” I wished he wouldn’t say shit like that! Happily, a minute later Mr. Hong’s team circled through, whispering amongst themselves and putting an end (so I thought) to the mystery: some of those kids hadn’t yet realized that a whisper carries further than a low voice. Nevertheless, Daesung beckoned his leader over and began to describe what he’d heard (and I hadn’t): two voices, faint enough that he couldn’t be sure of the gender. One of them sounded as if it was crying. I shivered at that (it really <em>was</em> getting cold in here), and tried to picture the pantry and kitchen bright and savoury with cooking; I didn’t want to think of the young woman weeping, or what she might have done next. I didn’t want to think about any of this.</p><p>“…I wanna go home,” I murmured to Seunghyun, my knees stiff as I slid my way up the wall to my feet. “Is it nearly-” Mr. Hong and a couple of others glanced over, presumably to hush my complaining, and in the same instant I heard them all gasp.</p><p>“You see that?!” hissed the leader, and his two companions nodded, mouths open.</p><p>“Yeah, next to him, holy <em>shit</em>!” I froze, my gaze darting automatically toward Seunghyun to check he hadn’t left me. He was squinting over my head, thick eyebrows lowered intently, and I could sense he was holding his breath as I was.</p><p>“Look, the meter’s registering!”</p><p>“In here, too,” Daesung murmured. He tapped his headphones; he sounded terribly excited. They were all still staring, focused on the patch of wall to my left where the broken shutters allowed slivers of moonlight to creep in. Did my left side feel colder than before? I became aware that the hair on my arms and the back of my neck was standing on end. I didn’t want to look! But I <em>had</em> to. With great trepidation I turned my head, and there on the wall was – nothing.</p><p>“For fuck’s sake!” I muttered, slumping against Seunghyun in relief. His large hand curled around my bicep and I was sufficiently comforted to be pissed with everyone else. “You guys scared the crap outta me!” They were still staring. Then the leader blinked and let out a long breath.</p><p>“Check the recorders!” he ordered urgently, thumping the guy next to him on the back in a transport of enthusiasm.</p><p>“…I never saw anything like that.” It was the know-it-all student beside him. “Oh my God, my first sighting!”</p><p>“Means nothing if it’s not on the tapes,” Mr. Hong told us before yelling for the group in the bedroom to get their asses in here.</p><p>“I’ve got something!” Daesung had rewound his cassette recorder and was playing it back over and over. The leader grabbed his headphones and listened with bated breath.</p><p>“Yes…yeah, I think so – one voice, at least. Hard to tell ‘til we get it back to the studio.” Huh – one of these dorks was cool enough to have a <em>studio</em>?</p><p>“There were voices all over the place!” I pointed out. “Most of <em>you</em> were talking!” Not to mention that everyone here had had half a dozen drinks tonight and therefore might be hearing <em>anything</em>. There was some discontented muttering at this, until the other SGS member at the video camera tapped the side of the bulky machine and announced:</p><p>“This’ll tell us the truth! The camera does not lie.” I had my own views on that, as does anyone who’s been photographed at a bad angle and given a double chin their perfect face absolutely does not have. But the others all nodded – they looked so confident!</p><p>“Back to the studio,” agreed Mr. Hong, and they all began to pack up. Just then the other group came pounding in to have the thrilling event described to them. “Voices,” the old man told them, “almost certainly captured.” Daesung cuddled the cassette recorder and mic protectively to his chest. “And at least three of us saw a shadow figure, classic type.” He pointed a finger at me. “Right next to <em>him</em>!” Dammit! Quit trying to creep me out.</p><p>“No way.” The three newcomers stared at me in clear envy. “Beginner’s luck!”</p><p>“I didn’t see <em>anything</em>,” I told them all staunchly.</p><p>“But we did. Maybe it was attracted to you!” I supposed I should be flattered by that; but I just wanted to go home.</p><p>“Seunghyun?” I said quietly. He was gazing hungrily at the video camera, now disappearing into its bag, and I could tell he was just <em>dying</em> to go with them and see it played back. So much for not being invested in spirits!</p><p>“Er…I’m gonna go find a taxi,” he announced. Good! The SGS mumbled variations on ‘goodbye’, too busy with their big discovery to pay us any more attention. Only Daesung came to see us off, beaming ecstatically in the torchlight.</p><p>“Come again anytime, Jiyong!” he invited. “That was the most exciting night we’ve had for years.” Not bloody likely! The sadness of that room lingered in my mind, while my skin could still recall the chill of believing, however briefly, that there was something standing beside me.</p><p>“Thanks, but I’m not sure I can handle that kind of excitement.” Daesung clearly knew I was being sarcastic but grinned at me anyway. He gave Seunghyun a hug and waved us off.</p><p>“That was great!” enthused Seunghyun as we trekked up the hill and out of Bukchon. “I think <em>I</em> maybe saw something!” And, at my glare: “I’m really sorry you got scared.” I weighed the fear against the pleasure of getting to press against him, of having him hold my arm so protectively back there, and decided I was only mildly cross with him.</p><p>“You all’re drama queens. ‘Shadow people’, I didn’t see a thing.” He smiled at me, that beautiful childish expression.</p><p>“I know we are.” Stepping off the curb he waved down a lone cab before returning his attention to me. “But…imagine if there <em>is</em> something on that tape!” I huffed and settled myself with alacrity in the back of the car. When I looked up I saw Seunghyun glancing longingly in the direction from which we’d come. I sighed: I knew what he wanted.</p><p>“You don’t have to come with me,” I told him with great beneficence and a fair amount of resignation. “You can go watch your home movies with them, you dork.”</p><p>“Can I?” His face lit up again.</p><p>“Sure, I’m not your mum.” He gave me a fond look; I could see how antsy he was. What a nerd.</p><p>“Call me!” Seunghyun said, leaning in to squeeze my shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” I shut the door. He waved to me for a second before turning to dash back into the hanok village. I gave the driver my address, then flopped against the seat and shook my head. Time to get back to the real world.</p><p> </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Unfortunately for Seunghyun, it'll be several years 'til <em>The X Files</em> comes along and teaches everyone that the paranormal can be cool and sexy - so he'll have to put up with Jiyong's bitching a while longer :)</p><p>Next chapter, Jiyong finds himself having to compete for Seunghyun's attention (and is unpleasantly surprised at how little he likes it).<br/>Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong doesn't get any more spooks, but finds himself disconcerted nonetheless.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the next few weeks Seunghyun was busy prepping for the Ralph Lauren shoot and show (he hadn’t been summarily fired so he must’ve been behaving himself). I therefore had little opportunity to test Daesung’s kindly opinion that his friend was some sort of paranormal da Vinci. I was deep in my own new collection, too: I’d been having some bright ideas and rashly decided to overhaul the whole design concept – somewhat to my surprise it was becoming rather sci-fi. A little androgynous, shades of Ziggy Stardust. Imaginative; <em>bizarre</em>. I knew whose influence <em>that</em> all was but I couldn’t deny I was pleased with the results. It was fun looking for new fabrics, all silver and texture and shine. So I was rushed off my feet trying to meet my deadlines. Seunghyun didn’t call me and I thought it’d maybe be wise not to call him for a bit: my goals in developing this acquaintance – friendship – whatever, were… See, it’d all gotten muddled with the protective touch of his hand, and I needed to sort my head out.</p><p>Luckily for me my on-again-off-again squeeze, a successful textile artist who worked with British and continental furnishing houses, had just returned from one of his jaunts to Europe and was eager to see me. I’d always thought that if we weren’t both so busy (and so wary of being ‘out’) we might make a decent couple: we had many shared interests in fashion and people and art, he was older than me and could handle my diva side, and the sex was good. I was almost relieved to see him, to spend normal-person time with him and re-calibrate my idea of what a desirable partner was – and to get out some of my horny that’d been misdirected onto poor clueless Seunghyun while Minwoo was away. I’d been single too long, I concluded to myself as we lay smoking in my big bed with one-of-a-kind covers created for me by Minwoo himself. Now I’d got it out of my system I’d be able to see Seunghyun clearly again – not as a hopelessly off-putting weirdo, not as Daesung’s ‘renaissance man’, and not as the irresistible sexpot and appropriate object of desire that my fantasies had been conjuring lately. I’d be able to see him as he really was; and <em>then</em> I could decide what I wanted to do about it.</p><p>In the end (somewhat to my satisfaction) it was Seunghyun who missed me enough to call. I gloated to myself for a minute or two, ‘til I discovered what it was he wanted: to invite me to another KUFOS meeting.</p><p>“Seriously?” I said. Some incentive!</p><p>“We could go for a drink after,” he offered shyly (he knew how <em>delighted</em> the initial offer must have made me). “And something nice to eat if it’s not too late.”</p><p>“That’s more like it.” My gourmet side was highly exploitable.</p><p>“It’s just…I dunno, I seem to explain myself better when there’s a layman around.” That would be me, I supposed. “Maybe ‘cos I know I have to make myself extra clear.” If Seunghyun thought he’d been clear on any point of aliens, cryptids or ghosties during our entire acquaintance he was delusional. Then again, I <em>had</em> been thinking about him. I figured I could doze my way through KUFOS if it meant we got to spend some one-on-one time together. So I agreed, then hung up and called Minwoo to cancel our plans. I didn’t tell him why – what normal person would understand?</p><p> </p><p>I loitered outside the church hall as before; it was a nice spring evening, and in any case I was trying to avoid the impressive social awkwardness that would ensue if I set foot in there without Seunghyun. He rocked up eventually with his messenger bag and gave me a big smile. I raised my hand in casual greeting (I didn’t wanna seem <em>too</em> thrilled with the hours of UFOs stretching into infinity before me); he looked so good I could almost ignore the clothes. For a second I stared with the old awe at his beauty, but that was only ‘cos I hadn’t seen him for a while so it came as a shock. How lucky I was that Minwoo had been around to distract me! God, that face could make you <em>obsessed</em>. I leaned nonchalantly against the wall and waited for him to notice my new look – and soon remembered there were some very good reasons why people <em>didn’t</em> get obsessed with Seunghyun.</p><p>“You see anything different?” I asked pointedly, after he’d waved at a few passing KUFOS members and asked me how work was before complaining about the bookstore for a bit. Seunghyun blinked for a moment, then gave my new hair a good squint: ice blonde and cropped very short, geometrically straight baby bangs lying high on my forehead.</p><p>“You cut your hair.”</p><p>“So observant, no wonder you’re an investigator!” Seunghyun shrugged and gave me another smile; I’d been missing that expression, I realized with a jolt.</p><p>“Wanna go in?”</p><p>“Hey, aren’t you even gonna say I look good?” He turned back and I gave him a dose of the pout, ‘cos in my world everyone fell over themselves to pay each other compliments; either we were all narcissists or had major self-esteem issues. Whichever it was, we needed constant ego-reinforcement and I was no better than the rest of them. But trust Seunghyun not to know the rules of his own industry.</p><p>“I mean…you always look perfect,” he said with another shrug. “So I didn’t really see the need.” Oh. Well! Well, then.</p><p>“How do I know what you think if you don’t tell me?” I pointed out. His thick eyebrows were travelling up his forehead.</p><p>“…<em>You</em> need telling?” I puffed out my cheeks, embarrassed. “You must know you’re pretty. Objectively speaking.”</p><p>“Obviously!”</p><p>“Sooo…” he said, as if I was some kind of dimwit. I could tell he was laughing at me. I huffed. “Okay, you oddball,” Seunghyun went on. The cheek of it, coming from him! The next thing I knew he’d stuck out his finger and was poking my jaw to turn my face to the side; his hand went beneath my chin and raised it. He examined my profile with what was probably meant to be scientific detachment, only I could hear him chuckling way down in his throat. The warmth of his fingers brought back every other brief time he had touched me, and all of a sudden my sessions with Minwoo seemed ineffective: Seunghyun could still get to me.</p><p>“Well?” I gave him the side-eye ‘cos I knew he was screwing with me.</p><p>“I like the hair short,” said Seunghyun at last. “From the side you look like an alien. You’re very <em>pointy</em>.”</p><p>“Oi!” He was grinning, but fondly, and my indignation dissolved with the deep rich sound of his laugh. “Coming from you that’s probably the biggest compliment I’ll ever get, isn’t it.”</p><p>“Yup,” agreed Seunghyun, and slung a friendly arm round my shoulders. “Now if your vanity’s all dealt with, let’s go in.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“What happened with the tape, by the way?” I inquired a fortnight later. I’d gone to meet Seunghyun at the bookstore; he’d bribed me with dinner after his shift if I would come to the meeting with him again, and like an idiot I said yes. It was becoming a habit: food, KUFOS, drinking. I only agreed ‘cos Seunghyun always let me pick the restaurant (so I could try out all the exotic yuppie cuisines) and always paid – a bribe, I considered it, to get me to sit through Henry’s rants. Minwoo probably thought I was having an affair, but our relationship had never been the kind that demanded monogamy so I didn’t feel the need to explain what I was really doing (and at that point I considered aliens far less socially acceptable than hook-ups).</p><p>“Oh!” said Seunghyun, removing his apron and shaking it free of dust. “I think that all round they consider it a success. Dae’s coming tomorrow, you can ask him.” It was the eve of the Ralph Lauren runway show, another reason why I’d agreed to see him today: I wanted to make sure he got a nice early night (alone, of course, what kind of boy d’you think I am?). He didn’t seem nervous at all, but that was no surprise.</p><p>“Really?” I shifted my ass away from a wobbly pile of old books – this shop was either a treasure trove or a safety violation, depending on your enthusiasms. “They <em>did</em> get actual footage of a ghost?! Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“Well, you were so scared,” said Seunghyun reasonably (and condescendingly) as he shrugged on his cardigan (sheesh). Ms. Go had made him cut his hair for the photoshoots and it looked great, but Ralph Lauren didn’t seem to have done much else for his style.</p><p>“I wasn’t <em>so</em> scared!”</p><p>“In that case,” he told me, “yes. They got something: a definite feminine voice on the audio – you can’t catch what she’s saying unless you fiddle with the levels, though – and the video shows a shadow on the wall next to you.”</p><p>“A <em>shadow</em>?” I said witheringly. Seunghyun paused to yell goodbye to his boss, then opened the door for me and we exited into the bustling street.</p><p>“There shouldn’t have been one there,” he explained. “The angle of the moonlight was wrong for it – but whatever it was blotted out all that light. And the shape of the shadow <em>looks</em> kinda like a woman.” I raised my eyebrows. “And yeah, we’re sure it’s not yours!” he added with a snigger. I elbowed him.</p><p>“So <em>funny</em>. But sounds pretty weak if you ask me.” I wasn’t sure how to feel about it: that creepy sensation I’d experienced in the hanok seemed far away now, which meant it probably hadn’t been <em>real</em> fear. I decided to fall back on logic and scepticism.</p><p>“It’s more than they usually get – the first sighting some of the young ones have <em>ever</em> had,” Seunghyun said. They’re going back to do a more extensive investigation.”</p><p>“So what did this ‘voice’ have to say? ‘Get the fuck out of my house, nerds’?”</p><p>“Hilarious, you are.” He elbowed me back. “There was only a few seconds where they could really catch anything. Mr. Hong thinks she’s saying ‘love can kill’ – which would make sense if it’s the maid but I tend to think that’s kind of on the nose – and Daesung thinks it sounds like ‘love and will’.”</p><p>“Doesn’t make much sense.” That only got me a shrug. “Which do <em>you</em> think it is?”</p><p>“Haven’t heard the treated version,” said Seunghyun. “So I can’t tell yet.”</p><p>“Terrific.” He grinned at me.</p><p>“Still, it’s <em>something</em>; and the other ghost groups are all super envious, which is really half the point.”</p><p>“These rivalries are so dumb,” I announced.</p><p>“True!” We reached the subway, and for the time being the subject of hauntings was dropped (with no complaints from me). “Now: tell me where we’re eating.” I smiled up at him; for just an hour or two I was going to pretend we were <em>normal</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Ralph Lauren show was a success; of course it was, the western brands always were hits back then, even when it was only celebrities and chaebol families who could afford them. The question in my mind was whether Seunghyun would be equally successful. I’d scored a front-row seat as usual, armed with my press pass, and even had time to slip backstage and document the chaos: twenty birds of paradise in the melee of panic and hairspray that is a fashion show behind the scenes. I couldn’t see Soojoo anywhere; there were only two female models, representing the brand’s ladies’ fragrance. Perhaps they had a separate station. Seunghyun was present and correct though, in his first outfit of the night, a smart pair of slacks and a burgundy sweater that felt soft as cotton candy when I took his arm.</p><p>“You’re behaving yourself, right?”</p><p>“Yes, Dad,” said Seunghyun dutifully. He was flushed from being dressed up and made up and pulled about, but he managed a grin for me.</p><p>“Nervous?”</p><p>“A bit.” He didn’t sound it.</p><p>“I can’t wait to see you out there.” Honestly, I couldn’t, and if there was any time to be supportive and not snarky it was now. “You look amazing.” He seemed happy to hear it. “Got a good quote for me?” I asked, brandishing my notebook.</p><p>“Um…I guess…these clothes make me feel cool.” I sighed and wrote it down; I would put it in my piece just so people would see his name in print, and get a more eloquent quote from one of the other models later.</p><p>“I suppose that’ll have to do.” Seunghyun shrugged at me. “Good luck!” I told him.</p><p>“Hey, Dae oughta be here somewhere,” he said distractedly. “It’s his first time coming to a show. If you see him can you tell him what to do?” I nodded, then clapped him on the shoulder and left him to it.</p><p>Daesung was in the foyer observing the glitterati with interest. Given that he actually had some social skills he didn’t look uncomfortable, just lost, so I took him in hand and got one of the runway assistants to stick an extra stool at the end of the front row. We sat down together and made pleasant small talk like ordinary people while we waited (I didn’t ask him about the ghost thing and to my relief he restrained himself from bringing it up of his own accord). If only Seunghyun could learn to be a bit more like Daesung and a bit less like Henry in public, I thought to myself; I was very happy to have <em>this</em> paranormal expert in my social circle. He even shut up like a good boy when the show began.</p><p>When Seunghyun strolled onto the runway I almost gasped: oh, jeez louise, he was good! Even if I hadn’t been watching for him he’d have stood out among all the other European and Korean models; it wasn’t that he was taller, or more in shape, or more practiced. But he walked as if he’d never felt more relaxed, like he owned the place, and at the same time he smouldered – he <em>glowed</em>. Was it because he didn’t care enough about modelling to feel anxious? He approached the end of the podium where Daesung and I were sitting, posed effortlessly to show off those fine clothes, then swung his perfect frame round in a careless, elegant movement. I thought he hadn’t noticed us, and probably just as well: my mouth was hanging open and I’d stopped sketching. When he’d gone and I was able to tear my gaze away from his butt and back to Daesung I saw his friend looked equally flabbergasted – who would imagine our UFO nut could move like <em>that</em>?</p><p>“See?” managed Daesung over the music, sounding like he was about to burst into amazed laughter. “Renaissance man…”</p><p>On his final pass down the runway (in a beautiful suit, Lauren had updated the fabulous clothes he’d designed for <em>The Great Gatsby</em> movie back in the Seventies and they were to die for), Seunghyun held his pose just a second longer than the others. He looked down and gave me a wink, and I almost combusted: pride and affection and sheer physical desire. God, I was so pleased with him! Too pleased, I know, I could’ve got on my knees for him right there; but it just showed how skilled he was. I swear he got more applause than any other model – this could be the fire that would restart his career.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, you!” Soojoo accosted me at the reception, resplendent in the chic sporty dress she’d been modelling for the leisure section of the show. She leaned down and hugged me before glancing at Daesung with interest. He gave her an admiring smile; she liked that, or perhaps her eagle eye had spotted his great buns (not that I’d been checking, but in my industry you just happen to notice these things). I introduced them, and in doing so found out Daesung was a musical actor – maybe he was the one with the studio. “So!” said Soojoo, pointedly hoovering up the dregs of her cocktail in my direction, “is this who’s made you so antisocial lately?”</p><p>“No!” I retorted hurriedly; however gay the stage musical scene might be, I didn’t want Daesung suspecting I leaned that way ‘til I knew him better. What if he told Seunghyun? “It’s not-” I blushed.</p><p>“Hmm.” She let me off the hook for the time being and brightened up. “Hey, guess who else is here!” She grinned. “You saw, right?” I opened my mouth to make some casual reply like ‘I can’t think <em>who</em> you mean’; but before I could I felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see Seunghyun beaming down at me.</p><p>“Well?” he said, as happy and handsome as I could imagine anyone being. “I did it!” And he dragged me into a hug. It felt so sweet, so easy, that I forgot about everything else; I slid both arms round his waist and squeezed. When he added “Thanks, Jiyong,” in his deep voice I felt almost drunk. In that moment, pure and clear as crystal, I wanted him to kiss me. Crap: so much for my platonic intentions. Before I could do anything stupid I became aware of Daesung waiting politely and Soojoo gawping at us with her beautiful gob wide open.</p><p>“You know Choi Seunghyun,” I said sweetly, disentangling myself (I kept hold of his arm, ‘cos why not?) – I <em>dared</em> her to say something.</p><p>“…Who doesn’t?” she managed after a full ten seconds’ fascinated staring. I decided you could just about interpret that as a compliment and magnanimously chose to take it that way; after how he’d done me proud tonight I was inclined to be protective towards Seunghyun. He gave Soojoo a nod and said something flattering in a mumble – yeah, he knew what she’d meant. Then he quickly offered to get us all drinks and bumbled off, Daesung in tow.</p><p>“Tell me he wasn’t the star of the show,” I said defiantly as soon as he was out of earshot. There was a pause.</p><p>“<em>You</em> got him hired?” surmised Soojoo at the end of it. “We were betting on how he’d managed it but none of us thought of <em>that</em>.” She laughed, though I could tell she was thrown. “I could’ve made some money! But…what made you do it?”</p><p>“I did interview him in the end. After the Reebok shoot, y’know? And we made friends.” Her eyes widened comically.</p><p>“Even though he’s-”</p><p>“Yeah, even though. But he’s not that bad.” He was; I just couldn’t bring myself to care like I oughta. “He was okay on this project, wasn’t he?”</p><p>“Wellll…” She shrugged. “I s’pose. Nobody complained big-time. He still gives off a weird vibe, though – and I know I overheard the lighting guys talking about ghosts, which can’t be anyone else’s fault, let’s face it.”</p><p>“Nothing you can’t work with, though!” I challenged her. She tilted her head on its long neck (she had far more of the alien look than I did, she and Seunghyun oughta get along like a house on fire).</p><p>“On occasion,” she conceded, and I gave her a smug grin. If Soojoo could be said to represent the Seoul model contingent (and she very well might), I thought this whole gig might’ve served its purpose: if she could admit Seunghyun’s professional company was even slightly tolerable, others would.</p><p>Seunghyun promptly returned with champagne. We stood there and made idle chatter about the show in a pleasant, thoroughly ordinary manner, the social wheels helpfully lubricated by booze and Daesung. Occasionally one of the foreign models would drop in and congratulate Seunghyun (looking for compliments in return, I know my people). He spoke what sounded like passable English, but as my own skills didn’t extend much beyond reading it was hard to tell; maybe Henry <em>had</em> been a good influence. I could see Soojoo gradually relaxing in his company, though she didn’t lose her look of vague astonishment that he and I could be friends. Then a tall blonde model with a handsome square jaw and a French accent loomed up.</p><p>“Hey, bro,” he said (or something similar), addressing Seunghyun in English, “send me that book before I leave, yes?”</p><p>“Okay!” Seunghyun’s eyes lit up, as did Soojoo’s – the guy was precisely her type. Sadly for her he didn’t stick around, simply gave us a salute and wandered off. I raised my eyebrows, and soon discovered the reason for Seunghyun’s enthusiasm.</p><p>“He saw me showing <em>Amityville: The Last Chapter</em> to some of the techs,” he explained to Daesung, who made a face. “He thought it looked cool so I told him about the first one.”</p><p>“It’s been so debunked, though,” Daesung said critically.</p><p>“Yeah, I know. But the lighting supervisor swears he grew up in a haunted house – an ‘evil’ one. So I figured it might ping for him.”</p><p>“Huh.”</p><p>“Anyway, Adrien’s very interested in ghosts too, he told me earlier! Those Europeans have so many creepy old buildings. I said I’d give him my copy.” I slid my gaze sideways to see Soojoo looking deadpan. She gave me an ‘I told you so’ glance, and I rolled my eyes at her but shrugged – this was very mild stuff to me now. I didn’t find it more than slightly embarrassing, and anyway, Seunghyun deserved a treat after his hard work. Probably her shock was as much at the fact that both Daesung <em>and</em> that heartthrob French guy could be as dorky as Seunghyun; now she’d be on the lookout for nerds everywhere. The thought made me snigger to myself. Seunghyun heard and looked down at me with a smile, obviously content. As a personal reward for getting him the gig I took his arm again. Friends, good friends, yeah, yeah.</p><p>“I’ll see you around, Ji,” said Soojoo; I didn’t blame her for leaving to seek more stimulating company, but I was perfectly happy to stay put. Ugh – was I losing my cool? Her arch look said I was. It also said she’d guessed more about my muddled feelings for Seunghyun than the man himself had ever, or would ever, realize.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Almost immediately after the show Seunghyun booked another job. Between that and the bookstore and his extracurricular interests, both paranormal and political – he was much more aware than me of the pro-democracy protests that were flaring up that spring, probably ‘cos he always had his nose in the papers for mention of spooky stories – it was amazing he had time to hang out with me. But he did.</p><p>For being diligent with his modelling I let him pick his own reward, which was to invite me round to his place to watch a movie. I could just imagine what that would be like. I agreed anyway – and was proved right. His apartment was about the same size as mine, not far from the bookstore. Inside I found none of the chic layout or careful design that my place boasted, although he’d got nice vintage furniture (which was most likely only ‘cos he was too lazy to redecorate, as his Seventies wallpaper demonstrated) and a couple of interesting paintings jammed between the <em>Alien</em> and <em>Poltergeist</em> posters. It was surprisingly cosy all the same, and while untidy it wasn’t the hellhole of dirty dishes and takeout boxes I’d envisioned.</p><p>“Get you a drink?” said Seunghyun, anxious to please. I wondered when the last time was that he’d had a regular person round here. I nodded and he ambled off. In the meantime I indulged my curiosity and went for a snoop; all the doors were open so I didn’t feel like I was prying. If it were up to him and not society I didn’t think Seunghyun would choose to hide anything about his life – but we all have to hide something, don’t we. His bedroom was neat; it was only when I opened his wardrobe that I saw how little care he took with his clothes. Typical. I wanted to straighten them out but decided it would be too like his mum or his wife, so I left them there (my palms itching with the urge to organize) and wandered into what must be his office.</p><p>“Like my books?!” yelled Seunghyun upon hearing my exclamation.</p><p>“<em>Ridiculous</em>!” They stretched from floor to ceiling – and apart from the novels they were <em>all</em> paranormal. I scanned the shelves, laboriously noting English titles like <em>They Knew Too Much About Flying Saucers</em> and <em>Chariots of the Gods</em>; on the cramped, cluttered desk lay a shiny new book called <em>Communion</em>. When I opened the cover I saw Henry’s name inside. I retreated from the room; if I hadn’t grown so illogically fond of Seunghyun already I think the sight of his obsession right there in paper and ink would’ve put me off him for life. “You’re a dweeb,” I reminded him when he’d brought my drink and settled me on the sofa after clearing it of newspapers. Seunghyun just grinned at me and went to ring for jajangmyeon and chicken.</p><p>Contrary to my expectations that night was a lot of fun. I hadn’t socialized in such a low-key way since my student days, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d deigned to eat delivery fast food. It tasted good. Maybe that was the beer and maybe it was the company; but I managed to stuff myself (he said I was too skinny) and even enjoy the Seventies local horror flick he’d acquired on video cassette. Seunghyun laid a hand on my shoulder the first time I jumped, and kept it there ‘til he went to get more booze. I shuffled a bit closer: the film was old and dumb, but something about the grainy quality made it creepier than a new production. My sadistic friend chuckled when I grabbed a cushion and hugged it to me as the evil spirit of the mother-in-law terrorized the lovely protagonist.</p><p>“Shut up, this shit’s scary!” I hissed at him (my only comfort being that a mother-in-law was one problem I’d most likely never have to deal with). Seunghyun passed me another drink.</p><p>We watched some regular TV after that; I was soothed by its bright vapidity and soon felt better. The alcohol was definitely helping at this point, and just as well: Seunghyun had got some of his favourite books out and was tipsily trying to explain the main theories of UFOs while thrusting complicated English paragraphs at me to illustrate his point. He’d been an American Studies major at Yonsei, he told me, which accounted for his language skills but didn’t appear to have helped a whole lot with his logical thinking.</p><p>“Nuts and bolts!” he said with enthusiasm. “That’s like your classic extraterrestrial Roswell spacecraft: a real physical object that’s travelled light years to get here, piloted by a real flesh-and-blood bizarro creature.”</p><p>“<em>You’re</em> the bizarre creature. Anyway, what else would a spaceship be?” Why was I encouraging him even the slightest bit, you may ask? One, I was drunk; and two, he’d scooted along next to me to make room for all the books on the couch, and his warm, firm thigh was currently pressed against mine. I was content to tolerate a fair amount of bullshit to keep enjoying the sensation – though in terms of dealing with my attraction to this big goofy Trekkie I knew it’d only make things worse.</p><p>“Some people think they’re <em>alive</em>.”</p><p>“The aliens?” Seunghyun shook his head, shaggy hair flopping round his face. It looked so soft.</p><p>“No, the <em>UFOs</em>! Like they’re hybrid creatures with their own consciousness.”</p><p>“That’s dumb.”</p><p>“Is it?! Who knows what kind of cyborg intelligences are out there?” He waved his hands around. “Stuff that’d make the Terminator look like a Lego set!” The best answer to that was naturally to take another large swig of my drink. “And that’s not even the weirdest: some researchers-” I snorted at the word; “-they think maybe they’re not strictly <em>real</em> at all!”</p><p>“Now you’re talking,” I said, nodding firmly and drunkenly and knocking my glass against his shoulder.</p><p>“No, I mean, as in…they exist, but they’re not solid. Like, maybe they’re from another plane of existence or some other dimension, so when they come through they can’t really manifest properly and some people can’t see them at all. But they have a kind of <em>psychic</em> existence.”</p><p>“You sure you didn’t major in Philosophy?” This sounded about as useless.</p><p>“Jiyong,” announced Seunghyun, turning to regard me with big whisky-widened eyes. “The universe is a very weird place.” I goggled at him in exasperation for a second; then I felt my face split in a broad, dopey smile.</p><p>“I know it is, you dimwit.” Here <em>he</em> was, after all. Seunghyun laughed, that low baritone that was almost a vibration. I leaned against him for a brief moment; and while I was doing so I fell asleep.</p><p>I could only have been out for a couple of minutes (decimated by the alcohol, I had a lower tolerance than him), ‘cos the next thing I knew I was reclined on the sofa with my feet up and my head on a cushion, and Seunghyun was in the process of spreading blankets over me much as he’d done with his coat up on the mountain. I gave him a drowsy look with too much affection.</p><p>“Better you stay the night,” he told me serenely, placing a glass of water on the coffee table. “I don’t trust you to get home like that!” Oh, he looked lovely; and this sweet consideration felt like a luxury (Soojoo would’ve left me where I dropped). I tried but couldn’t stop myself imagining this in another context, a fantasy in which Seunghyun was a willing and appropriate boyfriend who’d kiss me and order me nourishing meals and tolerate my nagging. Dammit, I was too drunk and he was too attractive.</p><p>“Know what?” I said, slurring only slightly as I raised one tipsy hand to take hold of the front of his tshirt. “I really like you!” I tipped my head back and (taking care not to go cross-eyed) gave him my best seductive stare – fuck it, I thought stupidly, what was the worst that could happen? Yeah, I’m not a good drunk. But Seunghyun looked pleased.</p><p>“Me too,” he replied, with a dimpled grin that had to be genuine: it reached all the way to his eyes. I felt a moment’s excited disbelief and anticipation; I waited with bated breath for him to say something else, touch me in some way – I found myself <em>aching</em> for it. Then Seunghyun smilingly removed my hand, tucked the blanket up to my neck, and got to his feet. “Night!” he said. Completely oblivious. He turned the light out and left the room.</p><p>I lay on my back regarding the luminous plastic stars stuck to the ceiling with inebriated resignation. Well, I had my answer, didn’t I: no-one with the slightest bit of attraction to me could miss what I’d been putting out there just now. The fact that Seunghyun hadn’t reacted told me all I needed to know – it wasn’t going to happen. So forget it, I told myself; this wasn’t a broken heart, and I’d got over enough of those to know the difference. Plus I had a good thing going with Minwoo. Why make life harder for myself? I closed my eyes and grouchily went to sleep with my platonic resolution once again intact.</p><p>The next time we met I would have a chance to test that resolution, and in a way I hadn’t seen coming. In fact it was to be a red-letter day all round.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I walked into the KUFOS meeting with the assured gait of a man who’s determined that 1) he’s never going to become a signed-up member no matter how much peer pressure he comes under from certain ginger Americans, and 2) he’s not going to be flustered when the geeky Adonis he made a drunken pass at last week finally turns up. As I made my entrance (my sensible side having caved to Seunghyun’s innocent invitation) Henry accosted me.</p><p>“I’m not joining!” I parried before he could get started.</p><p>“Hey, we got a new member today anyway,” he said easily. His tshirt boasted a badly-drawn rendition of Chewbacca, although in hindsight it might’ve been a Sasquatch; it was too tight for his chunky short-ass frame but he didn’t seem to care – bizarrely I found myself envying his body confidence (or cluelessness). “And a new coffee machine!”</p><p>“About time too.” I headed in its direction; Henry followed, muttering in what I presumed was meant to be a covert tone:</p><p>“<em>Looklooklook</em>!” He jerked his head at the Lovecraftian heap of regular members lurking by the stage. I looked, and a few moments later the sea of dweebs parted to reveal an unprecedented sight: a <em>woman</em>.</p><p>Now, it wasn’t like there’d never been a woman in the room before. Occasionally a wife or girlfriend (yes, somehow they did exist) would be dragged along ‘cos they’d been to a family gathering or the shops and their dorky husband was driving. Most of them – completely understandably – would sit at the edge of the hall with their arms folded, looking daggers and rolling eyes while their spouses waxed lyrical about abduction scenarios. Once last month, though, Henry had brought <em>his</em> wife. I was fairly stunned that he’d managed to get married at all, let alone to that tall, attractive Canadian; they looked like the Odd Couple. Nevertheless she pulled up a chair next to him and contrived not to mumble a single complaint under her breath while the meeting wound its endless way onwards. I’d watched her covertly: she wasn’t even pretending to pay attention, in fact she’d brought a book – Kim Jiha’s <em>Five Thieves</em>, Christ, Henry had bagged an intellectual. She read with a small line between her eyebrows (it’s not the easiest text even for a native speaker), and whenever Henry jumped up to make some loud point or go off on one of his stream-of-consciousness ramblings she would pause, look up, and give him a fond, tolerant smile.</p><p>“Can I do that?” I’d whispered to Seunghyun during a lull while half of us went out to smoke. He raised his eyebrows in enquiry. “Bring a book,” I clarified.</p><p>“If you’re not even a little bit interested,” he said, sounding puzzled, “why d’you keep saying yes when I invite you?” I had no answer for him; I barely had one for myself. Only that I wanted to be around him – I wanted his friendship, if that was all that was on offer. I thought if I could come in the role of patient spouse, only tuning in briefly during Seunghyun’s more lucid moments, I’d have a much nicer time.  But then I wasn’t a woman – so I had no excuse.</p><p>Then today, this extraordinary and unimagined day, it happened: KUFOS got a female member. And all my carefully constructed good intentions went (yet again) out the window. As Henry and I were watching the others crowd round her Seunghyun strode in excitedly, bag weighed down with what I knew would be more nonsensical tomes about Reptilians or whatever his latest hot-button issue was. He spotted me right away, only a second after my attention gravitated towards him, and looked pleased that I’d ventured far enough into the room without him to talk to Henry of my own accord.</p><p>“Hey,” I called to him, wanting to take his arm the way I had at the fashion show. It didn’t seem appropriate here, especially ‘cos I was meant to be keeping my emotional guard raised. Seunghyun’s eyes crinkled up and he hurried towards me. As he did so he stopped in his tracks, it was almost slapstick. I saw his eyes on the group by the stage; then his jaw dropped.</p><p>“Alright!” announced Mr. Lee the leader testily. “It’s eight, let’s commence!” It took even longer tonight for the hubbub to die down (ufologists on-topic have only two volume settings, depressed mumble or loud tirade). Eventually, however, everyone took their seat – I was quick to grab the chair beside Seunghyun, of course, I liked to sit in his shade. Old Man Lee looked to his right with great complacency (and a fair bit of disbelief), and began: “First order of business – let me introduce our new trainee, Sung Hyunjae!” The woman beside him bowed, then gave the assembled gawkers a cheery smile.</p><p>“Hi!” she said brightly. Bashful mutters all round. I watched this historic event unfold with interest, starting with a quick once-over now I could see her properly: Sung Hyunjae was probably in her late twenties, a little shorter than me and with straight black hair (no bangs) tied neatly in a ponytail. She wasn’t beautiful or especially fashionable (yeah, I was being shallow, what can you expect with my job?); still, she had a nice face and the simple jeans and blouse she wore suited her. Admirably, she looked unfazed by the herd of buffalo staring dumbly at her – then again, she’d come here of her own accord! I assumed she had to be plenty eccentric. Nevertheless she gave them a perfectly normal greeting. So: added to Henry that made two KUFOS members with interpersonal skills. This was probably some kind of record.</p><p>“Hyunjae will be doing her shadow hours first, of course,” Mr. Lee told us. “Until she knows the basics and protocol.”</p><p>“She oughta shadow <em>me</em>!” piped up one of the younger members (anorak, check; pocket protector, check). “I found her outside!” I shook my head to myself – these losers.</p><p>“She’ll shadow everyone,” the leader said patiently. There was a general enthusiastic shuffling; looking at the eager faces of the men who were already spoken for, I wondered if their wives would be as pleased (although anything that gave their husbands an alternative outlet for their paranormal passions would maybe go down well). Hyunjae looked fine with this. Astonishing; but not as astonished as I was when Seunghyun spoke up:</p><p>“Please, Miss,” he said shyly, like an elementary school student (he even had his hand up, the twit), “how’d you find out about us?”</p><p>“There was an ad in the classifieds,” the young woman explained, fumbling in her bag after one startled glance at Seunghyun’s heavenly face and brandishing a piece of newspaper.</p><p>“See?!” Henry gave the room a smug look. “Told you it was worth the money.”</p><p>“And what brought you here in the first place?” asked Mr. Lee encouragingly. Hyunjae leaned forward; so did everyone else. On tenterhooks, I tell you.</p><p>“I’ve done some reading; or I’ve tried. Ten years ago my father had a CE-2,” she said. Every man’s eyes lit up at this correct (I suppose) use of the terminology. “He told me all about it and I’ve never been able to forget it – I <em>dream</em> about it.” Some vigorous nods from the more weirdy-beardy section of the group, the ones who claimed to be the recipients of close encounters themselves (and described them constantly and at length). “So I want to learn more,” went on the prospective new member. “And formalize what I already know. And…” Her face shone, she was really quite pretty like this. “I want to see something for myself!” There was some more murmuring, of a distinctly admiring kind. Eventually Mr. Lee managed to move to the next point in the agenda and I couldn’t gauge her any further – but I did get my first extensive observation of how paranormal guys behave with the elusive female of their species.</p><p>“I’m telling you,” opined one of the members (whose name I hadn’t bothered learning) an hour in, “we have to spend more time on local sightings! What good does studying American or European phenomena do us right now?” He was declaiming with the manic earnestness of all KUFOS speakers once they get going, but he didn’t seem to be attracting the usual amount of dissent, argument and downright ridicule that was a routine part of the ‘discussions’ – only Henry was engaging with the standard degree of lunacy. And it wasn’t hard to see why.</p><p>Almost every member, Seunghyun included, was still staring at the genuine human female as if a Yeti had strolled into the room and made itself a cup of tea. If ever I’d needed confirmation that Seunghyun swung straight, this was it; his eyes had gone all big and stayed that way, widening further whenever Hyunjae spoke or crossed her legs. As I watched he fiddled with his floppy hair in – ugh, in exactly the way I did (couldn’t help doing) when his good looks got the better of me. I was quite disheartened with how much I didn’t care for it, by the way I shuffled my chair closer and hung at his side while he took his turn to talk to her after the meeting. They were discussing a recent sighting over Okinawa, and goddammit she had all the facts at her fingertips – all those achingly boring theories I’d let drift past me every time Seunghyun went off on one. His face was alight, to my eyes as bright as when he talked about this stuff to <em>me</em>. And I didn’t like it.</p><p>“I’ll come to the next meeting if you want,” I told him casually once I’d escaped from Henry and we were strolling in search of my taxi. Seunghyun looked delighted; as delighted as he’d been when she was arguing with him about CE categories? I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter anyway, did it? I was seeing someone, and my friend was just that – a <em>friend</em>. Certainly in his eyes, which was all that mattered, and was more than I’d ever expected or even wanted in the first place.</p><p>“That’d be great,” he said. “I’ll give you some books to read.” I sighed inwardly: was I really intending to go to this much effort to hold Seunghyun’s attention? If I <em>was</em>…I wasn’t at all sure I liked what it meant. <em>Hold it together, Jiyong</em>, I ordered myself sternly. And for a week or so I did.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“I’m meeting Dae for pizza tonight,” said Seunghyun’s luscious voice on my machine. “I dunno if you’ll get this in time, but you’ll find us by the Dongdaemun wicket at seven if you’re up for it. I’ll give you that book.” I’d just got back from one of the magazine offices and was heading out again for a meeting with the company that’d be manufacturing my new designs; but I thought I could make time for pizza.</p><p>“So where is he?” I demanded after hauling ass over to Seunghyun’s local station and seeing no-one but Daesung waiting for me. The taller man shrugged, still wearing his eternal smile.</p><p>“Probably got some fascinating new stock in – that store, you wouldn’t believe the second-hand foreign stuff that comes through there. That’s where I got my second edition <em>Book of the Law</em>!”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” I said discouragingly. Taking the hint Daesung dropped the dork talk and we chatted about the theatre until I saw Seunghyun’s tall figure weaving through the after-work passenger crowd. I raised my hand to attract his attention – and noticed Hyunjae beside him.</p><p>“Sorry we’re late!” panted Seunghyun, bustling slowly towards us so her shorter legs could keep up. “I was trying to find some of the key texts for Hyunjae to swot up on.” First name terms already; I narrowed my eyes but told her hello like a polite non-ufologist human. “Here you go,” he added, and put the promised research book in my hand (whoopee). Daesung was introduced to the young woman and began congratulating her (with some amusement) on single-handedly making KUFOS the most successful UFO group in Korea simply by turning up.</p><p>“I like your jeans, by the way,” Seunghyun told me over their laughter. They were neon paint spatters on black, I’d dressed low-key ‘cos I was trying not to make too much of an effort for him; still, the compliment pleased me – he’d remembered my tiny tantrum from before. The pleasure was dimmed, however, by the image of the two of them together; and the way he was looking at her now.</p><p>That dinner was one of the least fun nights of my adult life. Worse than a paranormal meeting and <em>definitely</em> worse than spending time with Seunghyun alone. It wasn’t the fault of the food, which was good; and not the fault of Daesung, who did his best to keep to the lighter side of the weird when it came to general conversation. I’m not even gonna say it was Hyunjae’s fault. No, she was following Seunghyun’s lead, and he was <em>deep</em> into alien talk within five minutes of sitting down and ordering. She looked fascinated, and blooming with enthusiasm, and answered him intelligently (at least, I presumed so); no wonder my friend couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d worked with beautiful models in their dozens – but I doubted he’d ever met a woman like her. Every so often he’d turn to me and attempt to explain what they were talking about, but it was gibberish as usual, and he’d immediately dive back in when she posed him a question.</p><p>They were sitting next to each other; I was across from Seunghyun beside Daesung. I don’t know why I was feeling slighted, it was as good a seat as any, perfect for sitting and staring into his eyes; but seeing them alight for someone other than me was<em> not</em> a sight I ever imagined I’d witness, or ever wanted to. Watching him try (consciously or unconsciously) to flirt with Hyunjae was painful. I could feel Daesung glancing at me, just now and again but enough that I began to worry my feelings were showing. I didn’t want him to know I was unhappy, I didn’t want Seunghyun to know – I didn’t want to feel this way at all! It was ridiculous, it wasn’t like they were making out in front of me. But I had never been so jealous in my life as I was at that moment.</p><p>“Hey, I gotta go,” I said after less than an hour, when I could get a word in edgeways over their talk about ‘disinformation’ conspiracies by our military government. Seunghyun quit yapping and finally gave me his attention.</p><p>“Are you feeling okay?” he asked in concern. “You hardly ate anything!”</p><p>“I’m fine.” I gave him a small smile. “I’ve got a deadline, that’s all. And don’t you stay out too late, either – you’ve got your photoshoot tomorrow.” Hyunjae gave Seunghyun an inquiring look; of course he hadn’t told her he was a model, the over-modest bastard. I could tell it wouldn’t hurt her opinion of him any, though; and it was obviously high already. Seunghyun nodded.</p><p>“Want me to walk you to the station? There was another protest today, it’s gonna be rammed on your line.”</p><p>“Nah.” I stood up and put some money down, waved at them and left before the sourness and general disapproval – at Seunghyun and at myself – could show on my face. I flagged down the first taxi I saw and went in style directly to Minwoo’s: that was who I was with, <em>that</em> was who could give me attention and affection and sex. I had no business expecting any of those things from Seunghyun. Not like <em>she</em> could. If she wanted to; and I thought she might.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Wanna come on UFO-watch Saturday?” Seunghyun asked me over the phone a couple of days later. “Feels like we haven’t hung out properly for a while. I’ll bring treats!”</p><p>“Where?” I demanded cagily. I’d been keeping my schedule open for just such an invitation but that didn’t mean I was an idiot; I’d learned my lesson from the ghost hunt.</p><p>“Near Nanjido.”</p><p>“Ugh. The landfill? Way to pick a destination.” Seunghyun laughed.</p><p>“Yeah, but we got reports there’ve been some weird lights above there lately. Maybe the aliens are studying our ecology!”</p><p>“You’re really tempting me, Seunghyun,” I said drily. I knew what ‘reports’ meant: someone’s drunk friend of a friend on the grapevine, or a conversation overheard in an izakaya.</p><p>“Hyunjae said <em>she’ll</em> come.” Oh, he couldn’t have chosen a worse way of calling me a princess. I clutched the phone receiver tight, furious for just an instant at the thought of his asking her first. Then I got my shit together.</p><p>“I’m busy anyway,” I told him, flapping my hand around airily (not that he could see it). “Sorry. Have fun!” There was a nonplussed silence; I wasn’t usually that brusque with him, and lately I hadn’t had the resolve to refuse him at all.</p><p>“…Okay.” Seunghyun sounded a bit stumped and a little disappointed (bloody good!). “Call me, then, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.” I put the phone down, bit my lip, and sighed. Looked like I was going to Youngbae’s weekend bash after all.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Oh my God, stranger!” Youngbae yelled across his vast living room when someone (Choi Sangkook, top scorer in the K-League, I was later told) finally opened the door. I gave the soccer player a duty smile (not hot so he didn’t get a better one) and traversed the lush carpet to present my celebrity friend with a bottle of single malt. Youngbae’s parties were always an expensive proposition but I knew the cuisine would be worth it. “Let me guess,” said Youngbae, confiscating the alcohol and throwing a muscular arm around my neck, “Chanel?”</p><p>“Yves St Laurent.” I smoothed down my jacket; ahh, it was nice to talk fashion – to talk about <em>anything</em> and be assured no-one in the house was going to mention cryptids the entire evening.</p><p>“Come see my kitchen,” he ordered. I did so: it was very swish. Without wasting any time I grabbed a plate and helped myself. I knew immediately what’d been made by the caterers and what by Youngbae, but everything was delicious. “About time you got your butt round here!” Youngbae scolded me as I did so. “<em>Ages</em> since I had the place done.” I nodded without speaking, my hamster cheeks stuffed with smoked salmon canapés. “So; what’ve you been up to?” I swallowed.</p><p>“My collection,” I managed to say before my mouth was full again. It was easier than inventing a real excuse.</p><p>“That’s not what I heard.” I glared at him. Youngbae regarded me with the concerned expression he’d been giving me ever since he found out which team I played for. “Did you fall for some no-good heartbreaker again?”</p><p>“Mmph!” I swallowed again. “No,” I clarified. “I’m still with Minwoo.”</p><p>“Hmm. Didn’t bring him, I notice.”</p><p>“He’s gone to Singapore.” Youngbae shook his head but poured me a large glass of Chablis. It wasn’t that he disapproved of me dating guys. Well, he’d prefer if I didn’t, I knew that, but only ‘cos he wanted me to live a safe and easy life. The big pussycat. In fact he quite liked Minwoo; it was the unstable and open nature of our relationship Youngbae worried about; so conservative for a pop star! I knew he’d be settling down the moment he found the right woman, and the fact that I, his oldest friend, would never have a wedding bothered him no end.</p><p>“You sort your tour costumes out?” I inquired, wisely changing the subject. I had pleasant visions of huge shoulder pads and neon, he could carry ‘em off for sure.</p><p>“Come advise me,” Bae offered. I promised I would. We chatted together a while longer as the party flowed around us (I was on the chocolate profiteroles now). This was what I was used to, my comfort zone: beautiful clothes, beautiful people, the arts and glamorous lives. It was where I fitted in – I was <em>born</em> to it, or at least that’s how it always felt. I certainly didn’t need to be jealous of a woman like Hyunjae for spending an evening with Seunghyun atop Seoul’s biggest rubbish dump! Then: “…You <em>sure</em> there’s nothing wrong?” said Youngbae, in the middle of a conversation about <em>The Breakfast Club</em> (I guess I was being less devastatingly witty than usual). “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”</p><p>“I can’t possibly be, I’m too busy!” I laughed awkwardly. Fucking Seunghyun – being miffed at him was one thing but if he was having an effect on my looks this had gone too far!</p><p>“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with him,” came a familiar voice I did not wanna hear right now, and Soojoo appeared from behind me with a stick of celery in one hand and a minute pot of dip in the other. I defiantly stuffed a cream puff in my mouth and glowered at her warningly. Soojoo parked her model ass on the edge of the gleaming stainless steel island and ignored me to aim the celery at Youngbae. “He’s fallen in with a bad crowd! Well. A bad apple, anyway.”</p><p>“Oh?” Youngbae encouraged her by filling her glass to the brim.</p><p>“Oh, yeah. A leggy Golden Delicious, name of Choi Seunghyun.” I rolled my eyes (it was becoming my signature move). Bae raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“That model you were with at the Givenchy show?”</p><p>“He <em>was</em>, huh?” said Soojoo critically.</p><p>“He’s my friend,” I announced with my mouth full; they both tutted at me. “I’m a <em>fashion writer</em>, I’m friends with loads of models!”</p><p>“No-one’s friends with Choi for his interest in <em>fashion</em>,” Soojoo pointed out. She turned to Youngbae: “All he cares about is aliens and ghosts and shit!” Bae, who’s a Christian of the decidedly un-lapsed variety, looked worried; I didn’t think his church approved of ghosts. My busybody friend gazed at me, triumphant: “And every time Ji blows us off? <em>That’s</em> what he’s doing.”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound very appropriate,” said Youngbae seriously. “And what about Minwoo?”</p><p>“I am not dating Seunghyun,” I proclaimed, casting around for more food to cram down my throat (or, failing that, enough alcohol to drown myself – I knew there was a punch bowl around here<em> somewhere</em>).</p><p>“You sure act like you are.” I could tell Soojoo was remembering the Ralph Lauren after-party; dammit, I shouldn’t have clung to his arm like that, it was really fucking obvious.</p><p>“He’s not even queer!” I protested. Soojoo’s lovely eyes lost their hawkish aspect and abruptly turned soft.</p><p>“Oh, Ji. That makes it even worse…” Fuck: pity. Not an improvement. I looked up at her.</p><p>“…I don’t like Seunghyun like that,” I told my friends quietly. “At least, I’m trying really hard not to. That’s why I’m here.” Whatever my expression was telling them, it must’ve been pathetic: Youngbae put a stalwart arm round me while Soojoo thrust another glass in my direction.</p><p>“What happened, baby?” she said. “You get shot down?” I glanced away, across the glittering house and the young hip things having the good time <em>I</em> oughta be having.</p><p>“He met a girl,” I muttered. They exchanged a look over my head, I could <em>feel</em> their sympathy; it didn’t make this any easier. Christ, I hated the fact, and I hated having to tell them – ‘cos it meant I had to admit it to myself: how deeply I was attracted to Seunghyun.</p><p>“Choi met a woman who’s willing to talk to him longer than five minutes?” Soojoo was plainly incredulous. “Generally they barely last two once they get past the face.”</p><p>“She’s the same as him,” I explained. “Only, y’know…not as incredible.”</p><p>“Oh dear.”</p><p>“Don’t you think it’s maybe for the best?” piped up Youngbae eventually. I gave him a mopey look: I didn’t want to hear that. “You <em>know</em> you need things in common to make a relationship work, even if he did swing…well, <em>that way</em>. The both of you being hot’s not really enough!”</p><p>“I know it,” I said softly. My agony aunts gave me a pair of bracing smiles, and continued to alternately advise me and push gourmet food in my direction. I bucked up and became slightly more the life of the party. I had no choice: they were being so kind, and logical and sensible. There was no way I could confess to them that I’d rather be on top of a landfill right now, or anywhere at all – if it meant having Seunghyun to myself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/ahQNEUu.png">  </a>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next week Jiyong takes a nostalgia trip, and Seunghyun unintentionally makes things worse.<br/>(Worse relatively speaking; as I may have mentioned, this fic isn't exactly melodramatic in relationship terms - although in other terms, certainly XD)</p><p>Hope you're enjoying it, and thanks for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong finds a welcome(?) distraction from his jealousy...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was entirely against my friends’ instructions when I picked up the phone at a third message from Seunghyun and called him back. I’d managed to ignore the previous two; Minwoo was home from Singapore and taking me out to hip new dining spots, and the time apart from my gorgeous ufologist was doing me good. Only…every message Seunghyun left sounded more worried, so sweet and unsure of himself: the way he spoke to the rest of the world. How could I leave him hanging like that?</p>
<p>“Were you sick?!” came his deep voice – he’d picked up instantly. “I was gonna come bang on your door if you didn’t call me back this time but…” But I’d been decidedly icy on the last occasion we spoke, hadn’t I.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter,” I assured him, basking in those rich tones so concerned for little old me. “I’m fine; I just had a lot on my plate.” Literally, I’d put on a kilo spite-eating at Youngbae’s. “What’s up?”</p>
<p>“Uh…I’m going on another night trip. Not to the dump this time, promise! Out of town.” He paused. “Wanna come with?”</p>
<p>“Didn’t you have fun with Hyunjae?” Idiot, why did I ask that?</p>
<p>“Oh, sure!” Seunghyun said with enthusiasm. Yup, got what I deserved there. “You really should’ve come, we saw something that might not have been a plane!”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t wanna cramp your style,” I muttered.</p>
<p>“The more the merrier.” Really? I eyed the receiver thoughtfully. Maybe…maybe it <em>hadn’t</em> been a romantic evening. Then again, the setting he’d chosen would’ve no doubt dampened any amorous mood.</p>
<p>“Where’re you thinking of going this time?” Please let it be as crappy an idea as the landfill – I really needed to say no to him, I’d promised my two fairy godmothers I’d be sensible.</p>
<p>“Yeongwol-gun.” I took a quick breath at that, abruptly wanting to laugh. “It’s a couple of hours’ drive but I wanna check out Gossigul Cave. Then maybe we could go up Seogang River for a bit and see the Sinseonam Rock. If we get up high we can do a night watch, then come home when you’re tired.” Another pause. “What d’you think?” he pressed, while a wash of memories flooded through me and left me dumb.</p>
<p>“…We used to go to the Cave every summer,” I said softly when I could speak, my mind’s eye picturing its cool darkness. “And play in the river.”</p>
<p>“We?”</p>
<p>“My mum and dad and my sister,” I told him. I remembered the drive with particular vividness, my mother doling out boiled sweets as medicine against our complaints while the scenery flowed past. At the time I’d found the long trip annoying, but with the rose-tinted specs of recollection I felt nothing but fondness for the memory.</p>
<p>“You must know it pretty well,” Seunghyun went on, sounding pleased.</p>
<p>“Yeah…” Wow. Yeah – every year, back when my dad and I still approved of each other; before he and my mum split up. “They say if you make a wish on those cliffs,” I added quietly, “it’ll come true.” I <em>had</em> wished for it, our last time there as a family when I was seventeen years old and we’d been fighting about my future studies all day. I’d wished for him to go away – and it had happened.</p>
<p>“C’mon, then!” He was grinning, I could tell, and it warmed me in spite of the sudden melancholy; how could I fail to like Seunghyun when his voice alone was capable of that? “Let’s go wish for some KUFOS success!” I couldn’t help smiling.</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay,” I agreed, breaking my adamant promise not to ‘get sucked further in’ to the paranormal community; Youngbae was gonna kill me. “Next Saturday.”</p>
<p>“Awesome!” Dammit, he really sounded excited. A thought struck me and I went on quickly.</p>
<p>“But…just us, right?”</p>
<p>“Sure!” he said. “Boy Scout trip.” Right…that was all this was. But maybe it’d end up like Seoraksan; that’d been exactly the same thing and I’d still fallen asleep with Seunghyun’s arm around me and woken with my head in his lap. Fucking fuck: that was not what I oughta be wishing for. “I’ll bring the food this time,” he announced, doubtless remembering my bitching and moaning all the way up the mountain. “You just bring yourself, Ji!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah.” I’d tell Minwoo I was going hiking to get in shape, he’d like that – and he hated anything more wilderness than a city park.</p>
<p>“Oh – and dress like an actual human going outdoors, will you?” Seunghyun instructed. “No designer fripperies and dainty lace!” I told him succinctly to piss off, then hung up while he was still sniggering. All well and good, I reassured myself: it’d be better if I was in the mood to push him off a cliff next Saturday than in the mood to kiss him. Besides, Seunghyun or no Seunghyun I meant to enjoy myself. This was going to be a nostalgia trip.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He picked me up late morning on the appointed day. His car didn’t look any better than last time but I climbed in guilt-free, having lied to my friends and lover effectively about what I was up to. I slung my rucksack on the backseat and we set off out of Seoul and into the countryside.</p>
<p>It wasn’t an especially sunny day but it was mild enough to drive with the window down. I was pretty happy to be out of Seoul; the atmosphere in the capital was always stressful, and the sense of freedom granted when the curfew was scrapped had been replaced by tension between the government and dissidents. I tried to stay out of it but since early that year the protests had been flaring up everywhere. A bit of peace and quiet and greenery would be nice.</p>
<p>The further we got from the city the more I felt I knew the roads; every time I spotted a familiar landmark or piece of scenery I got a pleasant sensation in my chest, and I was able to assure Seunghyun we were on the right track despite my lack of skill at map-reading. I made a mental note to arrange another day trip in summer with Dami; I was sure she’d feel the same. Seunghyun was talkative the entire way, in the car and the restaurant and the cave and up the river. Occasionally Hyunjae’s name would drop into the conversation but mostly it was the same old entertaining nonsense. At last I’d learned the trick of steering him onto more interesting topics (gleaned from watching Daesung manage him), and as the afternoon progressed I could honestly say I was having a great time.</p>
<p>“Could be tsuchinoko in here,” Seunghyun hypothesized in a loud whisper that echoed off the rock walls of Gossigul. “They’re meant to live in caves. They’re supposed to be able to mimic human voices, too – ooh, listen!”</p>
<p>“That’s an echo, dumbass.”</p>
<p>“Or the ahool from Indonesia,” he went on, undaunted. “That’s a giant bat – very like the Mothman!” The small group of city tourists in front turned (unsurprisingly) at this unusual statement to stare at us; they looked anxious.</p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” I told Seunghyun as they hurried away. “Not in here, anyway.” Or anywhere. “There’re so many people around.”</p>
<p>“I guess,” he agreed, nice and reasonable, if vaguely disappointed.</p>
<p>“On the other hand there’re loads of <em>actual</em> bats.” That perked him up, so I gave him a guided wildlife tour of the public portion of the cave from memory (and sneaky glances at the promotional leaflet). Seunghyun squeaked like a baritone little old lady when one sleepy bat flapped past his head.</p>
<p>“Any petrogylphs in here?” he inquired when he’d calmed his ass down.</p>
<p>“Cave paintings? Don’t think so. The Go family hid out here from the Japanese in the sixteenth century but that’s the earliest I’ve heard of. Why?”</p>
<p>“Dunno.” We had come to the end of the public portion; from here the cave delved back another six kilometres into the earth. Seunghyun shone his torch upwards, illuminating an arch of rock above the closed-off path. “But doesn’t that look kind of like a symbol to you?” I stared at the spot of light for a minute and could see nothing but the natural irregularities of stone.</p>
<p>“Uh…no?”</p>
<p>“Looks sort of like a yin yang.” Perhaps there was a vaguely circular formation, but then again there’re only so many shapes in nature. What the hell; I decided to humour him.</p>
<p>“Or a moon. Or <em>two</em> moons. Or a big fat eye.”</p>
<p>“Could be!” said Seunghyun encouragingly, and looked so happy and interested I didn’t even argue. Then he snapped a couple of pictures and we had a fairly normal conversation about werewolves and vampires for the next hour (having seen the promotional photos for <em>Lost Boys</em> and decided vampires were hot, I was down with that).</p>
<p>We drove again, parked again, and took a boat ride out on the river while the sun was still up; even when it sailed behind the clouds the water was almost blue against the green vegetation towering around us and up the cliffs. I leaned my elbows on the smooth wooden railing of the boat and smiled at Seunghyun as the water lulled me: this was my childhood – a million miles away from the paranormal.</p>
<p>“Ready to climb?” asked Seunghyun bracingly once we were back on land and prepping for the last leg of our journey – we were heading to Sonagijae Summit so we could look down on the twin cliffs of Sinseonam. And, in a way that was only mildly condescending: “It’s not a long trip like last time. And it’s got wooden steps for the elderly.”</p>
<p>“Good to know. It’s not like I’ve been here a dozen times.” I gave him a withering glance, grabbing my rucksack from the car and donning my warm gear: before long it would be dusk.</p>
<p>“You look nice in that,” said Seunghyun dutifully (he always made a point of saying it now, even when he probably hadn’t been paying attention to my appearance; I thought that if more members tried following his example the KUFOS divorce rates would plummet).</p>
<p>“Thank you!”</p>
<p>“You’re gonna freeze again, though.” He clicked his tongue at my good wool coat (tailor-made) and scarf. “It’s set to rain any minute, see?” He pointed up beyond the summit, still vivid green in the last afternoon light. Above the trees it was looking black.</p>
<p>“Dammit, I forgot to check the forecast for Yeongwol.”</p>
<p>“Here.” Seunghyun’s voice turned muffled as he delved in the boot of the car. “I’ve got a spare if you don’t mind it being too big.” He thrust the garment at me and I blanched. My dopey friend chortled. “Sheesh, you’re vainer than any model I ever met!” he exclaimed. I pouted. “It’s UFO reconnaissance, not a fashion show; <em>I</em> don’t care what you wear, the phenomena don’t care – so just put it on and be comfy!” He waved the coat at me like a red rag to the proverbial bull. I donned it with reluctance. “Great,” said Seunghyun happily, and shouldered his kit bag. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>I skulked furtively after him, thankful for the imminent cloak of night, which would hopefully conceal the fact that I, Kwon Jiyong of the catwalk front row, was wearing an actual anorak.</p>
<p>Seunghyun was right: it wasn’t a taxing climb. It also began raining when we were halfway up. I raised the hood of the hated item of clothing and thanked God the weather would put any fashion-conscious tourists off. We reached the summit and Seunghyun spread a piece of tarp on a bench that’d been handily set there for the enfeebled (me) to observe the magnificent nature around us. There’d not been amenities here when I was a kid but the view was the same, and when the shower of rain let up we easily traced the twin peaks of Seondol against the twilit sky.</p>
<p>“Reckon we’ll see anything?” I asked unnecessarily. Seunghyun shrugged, broad shoulder brushing mine, and handed me a sandwich and his thermos of soup.</p>
<p>“Not if this weather keeps up, unless any craft come low under the cloud cover.”</p>
<p>“And what’s the likelihood of that?”</p>
<p>“Almost zero,” he said, and smiled at me with the resigned aspect of the patient UFO nut. Okay; looked like he was content to hang out with me as second prize. I passed him back the flask.</p>
<p>“Make your wish,” I told him. We were up here, after all. “You gotta close your eyes!”</p>
<p>“Watch the sky, then, Mr. Superstition.” He had some nerve! I obediently swept my eyes along the horizon, seeing almost no stars but a few twinkling lights from a village on the other side of the river. Beside me Seunghyun was silent. I wondered what he was wishing for, and hoped very much that it was for his long-awaited alien encounter; but I wasn’t about to ask. When he was done and it was my turn I’m afraid I wasted my own wish praying <em>his</em> hadn’t been about Hyunjae. Still, it was a hell of a lot better than the wish I’d made up here a full decade ago.</p>
<p>“How’ll you <em>know</em> if you ever see something?” I asked twenty minutes later, knees pulled up to my chest and arms curled around them inside my (annoyingly warm and practical) anorak. If there was ever a time to allow him to talk about UFOs it was probably now. “There’re so many lights in the sky these days.” Seunghyun didn’t put his binoculars down but leaned against me companionably, leaving me cosy and glowing all down my left-hand side.</p>
<p>“Not sure,” he admitted. “All I know is it’ll be something…not normal. I don’t even know if it’ll be a visual experience, if it’ll use our regular senses at all. It might be pretty abstract.”</p>
<p>“Then how will you tell the difference between that and losing your mind?” I challenged him mildly. “Or accidentally taking a bunch of drugs? I don’t trust whoever makes the tea at those meetings.” Seunghyun made a thoughtful sound, as if I’d asked something very meaningful instead of idle bollocks.</p>
<p>“Depends on the old question: what <em>are</em> UFOs? I mean the ones that aren’t secret military tech trials. Could be they’re a lot more psychedelic than we think.” He paused. “Course, some people think that’s nonsense – Hyunjae for one.” I pulled a face, grateful for the dark. “She’s a pretty solid nuts-and-bolts girl,” Seunghyun continued. “But then she’s still sort of new to it all – a lot left to learn.”</p>
<p>“Nuts-and-bolts.”</p>
<p>“I did <em>tell</em> you. I think,” said Seunghyun in a reproachful tone.</p>
<p>“Assume I accidentally wiped it from my mind,” I told him with a nudge.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s like…what you see is what you get.” It began to drizzle again; Seunghyun put his hood up. “If you see a flying saucer or a triangular UFO or whatever, that’s exactly what it is: a solid spacecraft that’s travelled light years from some other planet or galaxy, and if there’re aliens inside then they’re solid living beings like us. Even if they’re giant lizards.”</p>
<p>“Then I <em>certainly</em> don’t subscribe to the ‘nuts-and-bolts’ theory,” I told him. It sounded too much like a little boy’s daydream – or like <em>E.T.</em></p>
<p>“Me neither.” Seunghyun observed the way I was rubbing my arms and moved closer; he placed one of his own round my shoulders. “Jeez, you’re a chilly thing! Here, have more soup.”</p>
<p>“Never mind that,” I said, leaning against him. It felt so natural, and I was able for a moment to reassure myself that this didn’t have to be erotic or even romantic; it was just nice. “What do <em>you</em> believe?” He squeezed me excitedly – <em>here we go</em>, I thought, and took the binoculars from him so he could rant in comfort while somebody kept an eye on the skies.</p>
<p>“I told you about my Unified Theory, right?!”</p>
<p>“Er…possibly.”</p>
<p>“What <em>I</em> think,” said Seunghyun, “and what Henry thinks, for that matter…” Oh, this should be good: “…is that paranormal phenomena are all actually very similar to each other; but not to <em>us</em> – in fact they don’t operate like us at<em> all</em>. They’re not even carbon-based.”</p>
<p>“So…not solid. Not <em>real</em>?” This adorable idiot really had a knack for talking himself out of being believable.</p>
<p>“Oh, they’re real! It just depends on your understanding of reality.”</p>
<p>“Oof.”</p>
<p>“Whether we live in a universe,” lectured Seunghyun through his sandwich, “or a <em>multiverse</em>. Y’know, multiple dimensions, parallel realities and all that.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like the <em>Twilight Zone</em>.”</p>
<p>“There’re plenty of actual scientists who agree.” Of course there were. “And it explains how these sightings work – how these weird things pop up out of nowhere and disappear like magic: they’re coming into our reality from another one.”</p>
<p>“Should’ve brought wine this time,” I said with regret.</p>
<p>“D’you understand, Jiyong?” He sounded all earnest. “This is my big thing.” I sighed.</p>
<p>“Spaceships and aliens don’t come from millions of miles away,” I parroted to please him. “They appear from a different reality.”</p>
<p>“Right: these realities lie next to each other. And reality is thin. So if you poke something through them you get multiple <em>holes</em> – like poking a pencil through two sheets of paper: a hole in our reality and a hole in theirs. And that’s how these things come through!”</p>
<p>“<em>Who</em> pokes a hole?” I was really doing my best to follow. Seunghyun made a face at me; guess that was the wrong question. “All right, all right.”</p>
<p>“So that’s how they get in. And it explains how much diversity there is in the stuff people see. These aren’t all different entities, they’re the same – only different people see them differently. And that’s what I mean by ‘psychedelic’.”</p>
<p>“You’ve lost me again.” I didn’t mind; I was just enjoying resting against his side, real and accommodating and solid. Seunghyun thought for a minute.</p>
<p>“Like…these craft, these creatures are half something from another reality, or are using interdimensional travel to reach Earth; and half created by <em>us</em>.” I groaned. Seunghyun pressed on, huge eyes shining and hands waving passionately. “I mean…whatever they are, they’re not something the human mind can process, so the form they take is generated by our own brains and experiences. Depending on the situation. That’s why people throughout history have seen them as different things: gods, ghosts, demons, aliens, monsters…but they’re really all the same: Greys, elves, <em>huldufólk</em>, guardian angels, Nordics, kappa, Mothman – they’re all <em>from the same place</em>.”</p>
<p>“…Our heads.” It was at times like this I wished I <em>did</em> do drugs; it’d make so much more sense if I was on acid.</p>
<p>“Only partly!” insisted my lovely and thoroughly loopy friend. “They have a real existence someplace, but it doesn’t look anything like ours. They might not even have physical bodies where they come from. They need a tangible form, though, to interact with us. But this is <em>our</em> reality – so we help dictate what those forms look like. And humans are pretty imaginative.”</p>
<p>“Okaaaay.” I gestured for the soup – anything to sustain me.</p>
<p>“Summarize!” Seunghyun challenged me. I huddled deeper into his spare anorak and marshalled the sparse sentences that made sense.</p>
<p>“Spaceships don’t come from outer space. Nor do aliens.” He looked like he was about to complicate that idea so I quickly laid my hand on his leg to shut him up. “Aliens, cryptids, religious beings, it doesn’t matter ‘cos they’re all the same thing and it’s down to the interpretation of the poor bastard who sees them.”</p>
<p>“Good!”</p>
<p>“But what I’m stumped on,” I insisted, “is how they get through – can they make a hole themselves, or do <em>we</em> have to?”</p>
<p>“<em>Extremely</em> good.”</p>
<p>“And if we do, how? And who? And <em>why</em>?”</p>
<p>“You know what?” said Seunghyun, conveniently not answering any of these questions; he sounded proud, and that warmed me more than I liked to admit. “That’s further than I ever thought you’d get.”</p>
<p>“I’m not saying I believe you!” What a crackpot, I thought as Seunghyun grinned at me through the occasional raindrops. What an incredible man. “So do the people who’ve had encounters – CEs, I mean,” I added proudly – “do <em>they</em> subscribe to this mystical shit?”</p>
<p>“Depends on their experience. And their education and personality, and who led them into ufology. If I’d met Hyunjae first instead of Henry I might have a whole different theory.” I wasn’t keen to let him elaborate on that.</p>
<p>“And why do people – formerly <em>normal</em> people – decide to tell these stories at all? Why do guys like you and Henry want to write about them? Can you get rich somehow? Famous?” I knew people would do a lot for a taste of either. I received a rueful smile.</p>
<p>“There’re two basic tenets of ufology,” Seunghyun informed me; I lowered the binoculars for a hot second to squint at him. “We tell all the new members just in case, though I expect half of ‘em know already.”</p>
<p>“Which are?”</p>
<p>“One: UFOs will never make you rich.” He shrugged philosophically. “Two: telling your story will <em>ruin your life</em>.”</p>
<p>“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” I remarked. “You’ve never seen <em>anything</em> and look at the state of your career!” Seunghyun tapped me and I returned my eyes to the skies.</p>
<p>“Abduction scenarios are the worst: people are dying to get it off their chests, it’s causing them horrible psychological stress; and when they do tell it never makes things better.” He sighed. “Look at poor Mr. Lee.” I pictured the shuffling, wild-eyed but otherwise inconspicuous pensioner who was the ineffectual leader of the meetings. “One abduction and standard probing back in the war and he’s never been the same since: couldn’t sleep and was getting sick so he told his officers, then he was given humiliating psych tests and punishment duty ‘til the armistice. Back as a civilian he tried to build his life up again – then he had a second encounter, finally cracked and told a yellow-news journalist. After that he was ‘the crackpot’ forever: no promotion, wife can’t be doing with him ‘cos he can’t stop talking about this stuff.” Seunghyun shrugged. “The only ones who believe him are us. That’s why we <em>need</em> this community.” He turned to me again. “Who else is going to love us?”</p>
<p>“…That’s so sad.”</p>
<p>“That’s the price we pay for the truth. And practically speaking it doesn’t matter if these things’re interstellar or interdimensional – the world thinks we’re insane either way.”</p>
<p>“There’ll be someone to love you,” I said softly, feeling wistful and daring for even saying it. But as usual Seunghyun didn’t pick up on my tone. Probably for the best, I told myself as I did every time. “Henry did okay, didn’t he?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Henry’s our role model.”</p>
<p>“Bloody hell.” We both laughed; he knocked me with his shoulder and we sat hip to hip in comfortable silence, watching the forest on the other side of the river sway beneath the sky.</p>
<p>“…Hey, Jiyong,” said Seunghyun after a long while. I made a quizzical sound. “Mind if I ask you something personal?”</p>
<p>“Knock your socks off,” I told him casually, though all of a sudden I was feeling anything but. His arm was still round me, keeping me warm, and I could tell he had tensed up too.</p>
<p>“It’s about what you were saying just now.” My breath caught a bit at that. We’d been talking about love, hadn’t we? What if Seunghyun, for all his oblivious innocence, had registered my tone after all? What if he’d figured it out? That I liked men – that I liked <em>him</em>. I was still pressed against his side and he hadn’t moved away. Perhaps…perhaps he didn’t care!</p>
<p>“Go on.” It took an effort to hold my voice steady. Seunghyun was silent for a moment. Then he plucked up his courage and said:</p>
<p>“How can I tell if Hyunjae likes me?” My heart dropped like a rock down to my shoes. “And if she does, what’s the best way to ask her out?” Right then I was thankful I had those binoculars glued to my eyes; there was no way I could look at him.</p>
<p>“…You’re what, twenty-seven?” I replied drily, repressing a wave of the most profound disappointment – including at myself. I should have <em>known</em> this was coming. Guess I used up all my wishing power in this place when I’d prayed for my dad to get out of my life. “You seriously need to ask me that?”</p>
<p>“Twenty-eight,” said Seunghyun. “And yeah, but…well, you know my problem.” Yeah, I did, the giant nerd – but he hadn’t always been such a doofus, surely! Perhaps, I thought with a kind of amused despair, he’d only turned hot when he’d turned to UFOs. Talk about irony. “And you’re gorgeous and stylish and surrounded by models,” Seunghyun went on. “Who better to ask for advice on women? I’m tired of getting hit on only to have them run a mile once they get to know me!”</p>
<p>At that I did put the binoculars down. I stared at him through the dusk; now <em>here</em> was the ultimate irony. I could have told him then. Maybe I should’ve: <em>Seunghyun, I’m queer</em>. Or just kissed the stupid, beautiful man, that’d get the message across. But I didn’t: I was too scared of his reaction – this was the Eighties, remember, and kind as Seunghyun was I couldn’t risk the possibility of discovering he was a bigot. I couldn’t risk losing his friendship; it was becoming so much to me.</p>
<p>“I don’t have any good advice.” Seunghyun looked sceptical, expressive eyebrows drawing down. “I don’t have a girlfriend either, if you hadn’t noticed. …Anyway, why Hyunjae?” Another thing I wasn’t sure I wanted to know; but I couldn’t stop myself asking.</p>
<p>“I’d be stupid not to,” said my friend solemnly. “You know how hard it is for people like me, and I’m not an extrovert like Henry. Yeah, I’ve dated girls before. But my lifestyle gets old for them pretty quick. It’s gonna take shared experiences to make something solid, I’ve learned that much. Shared priorities. And I could have that with her. Maybe. If she’s interested.” Of course she was interested, the galumphing great moron. And of course it was a good idea! Logically speaking Seunghyun oughta start wooing her immediately – he’d never have a better chance. “So, should I go for it?” he insisted. I pursed my lips; fuck, I had to be noble about this! When I didn’t answer he squeezed my shoulders. “C’mon, Jiyong, I could really use some backup here!” I steeled myself and opened my mouth.</p>
<p>“I…” Come on! “It’s… I’m getting cold.” Crap. Bottled it. “Can we go home?” I sensed Seunghyun looking at me but I couldn’t return his gaze – even <em>he</em> would know something was wrong. He let out a sigh.</p>
<p>“Course.” He squeezed me again. “I’m sorry, dude,” he added, and I could tell he was blushing. Great, now we were both mortified. “I shouldn’t drag you into the disaster I call my love life.” I managed a laugh, though it was more tremulous than I cared to hear. But if Seunghyun couldn’t read the helpless affection and sheer attraction in my voice he was hardly gonna notice a bit of shaky dismay.</p>
<p>“Hey, mine’s nothing to write home about either.” I glanced at him; he smiled at me briefly, as if to let me know everything was cool (although it wasn’t, and never would be again from the second he confessed to her). We packed up our rucksacks, grabbed the flashlights (tactical and ordinary), and like two embarrassed schoolboys desperately avoiding the subject of girls made small talk all the way down to the car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The drive back was quiet but not silent. I couldn’t afford silence or I’d slip into melancholy, and from there it was only a hop and a jump to moping, then sulking like a complete diva. How many times had I been rejected? I scolded myself. I’d got over those! And this wasn’t even a rejection; we hadn’t needed an embarrassing scene for me to find out Seunghyun couldn’t like me back, and now he’d never have to know. We could go on as before. So I made the effort, and we had some desultory chat about the SGS and what Daesung was planning to do with the ‘ghost’ footage. I wondered if he knew about Seunghyun’s grand Theory, and whether it applied to hauntings; to which Seunghyun replied yes, and maybe, it depended whether they were residual or intelligent.</p>
<p>“Okay,” I said, lolling my head against the passenger seat. “Too much vocab for one day!” I’d been exhausted since we left the lookout point, worn out with concealing my feelings. We’d be in Seoul in another hour, and it couldn’t come soon enough for me.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’ve done pretty well.” It was dark but I could feel him glance at me. Maybe he wanted to say something else about Hyunjae or perhaps ask about my own failed love life, but I’d obviously put him off enough that he was nervous about it. With every minute we didn’t speak a peculiar tension grew inside the car, an atmosphere we were making between us: unspoken feelings, only this wasn’t the pleasant <em>frisson</em> of two people who fancy each other and haven’t worked up the stones to say so yet – this was the friction of misunderstandings and inarticulate (because unacceptable) emotions. I didn’t like it one bit.</p>
<p>I was so wrapped up in the discomfort – almost guilt – of hiding myself from Seunghyun that at first I wove the increased juddering of the car into my un-tranquil psychological state. By the time I realized it wasn’t just me, that the familiar stretch of road itself felt like it was shuddering, Seunghyun had noticed too.</p>
<p>“…You feel something weird?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Is one of the wheels loose, you think?” He shrugged. Before I could suggest that we pull off the road and take a look the sensation grew undeniable; I seemed to hear something odd, something too low to distinguish.</p>
<p>“What the hell <em>is</em> that?” demanded Seunghyun. “Earthquake?!” We did have them sometimes but I couldn’t remember it being anything like this. Beneath the rumble of the car I could feel the earth vibrate, a slow roll that steadily increased in intensity until up ahead came a huge, catastrophic rending sound, metal and other things screeching and howling like gigantic beasts in the wind. For a second I was petrified: I remembered every dark story Daesung had told me in the middle of the night, every cryptid and monster Seunghyun had described during our long madcap conversations, and the primal, irrational part of me thought: <em>what if he’s right? What if it’s all real</em>?! I heard his breath catch beside me before an even louder rumble reverberated through the car and drowned out every other sound. An instant later came the thunderous crash of water, and all of I sudden I <em>knew</em>.</p>
<p>“Stop!!” I screamed at Seunghyun through the unceasing din, “<em>brake</em>!” I grabbed at him, fingers digging hard into his upper arm, and to my eternal relief he must have heard the panic in my voice: he jammed on the brakes and we skidded messily to a halt, both of us crashing hard into the dashboard. But it was better than the alternative. “The bridge!” I exclaimed by way of explanation. Seunghyun was looking at me, eyes enormous in the dim interior. I shook him and pointed at the road ahead; I remembered this route perfectly well and I knew we were about to hit the river crossing. Seunghyun’s lips went thin; then he shoved open his door and jumped out. I followed him, panting with apprehension and adrenaline.</p>
<p>“Jesus!” yelled Seunghyun, pounding up the empty road ahead of me. He stopped dead at the bend, and when I caught up I saw what I’d known I would see: the two-lane bridge over the river was gone.</p>
<p>“…I heard it,” I said weakly. He set a solemn hand to my shoulder and we stared at the turmoil on our side of the water. We were practically on the bank: ten seconds later and his shit-heap of a Presto wouldn’t have been able to stop. A high wind was lashing the trees and undergrowth that lined the road up to the drop-off; it made the twisted sculpture of steel girders and cables protruding from the bank look yet more horrific. It was all that was left of the fifty-yard bridge. I’d crossed it so many times in my life, never even gave it a thought – and now it was gone.</p>
<p>“What <em>happened</em>?” Seunghyun’s voice was hushed and shaky, not the deep reassurance of his usual tone; he sounded very young. I shook my head dazedly. I could see a few of the bridge supports jutting out of the river, which roared and battered around them creating white water. The rest of the structure was submerged.</p>
<p>“<em>Was</em> it an earthquake?” I wondered aloud. I moved closer to him; it still hadn’t hit me like it would later, the knowledge of how lucky we’d been, but right then I felt better being near him. I wasn’t thinking of our earlier awkwardness, just that I wanted another human beside me. He tugged me convulsively against his side; whether it was to comfort himself or me I couldn’t say. “Or did it just…collapse?” I had no idea when the bridge had been built; it could’ve been Colonial for I knew, this wasn’t the most travelled road. A terrible thought struck me: “Seunghyun, what if there was a car coming the other way?!” He looked down at me in horror; we had to find out.</p>
<p>Carefully we picked our way closer to the edge of the bank, and I clung to a warped steel post with one arm while Seunghyun held my other limb to support me. Leaning out over the ruins of the bridge I glared down into the dark water.</p>
<p>“See anything?!” I strained my eyes: the river wasn’t so deep and I couldn’t spot anything that looked like another vehicle beneath the wavelets and eddies swirling around the wreckage. But it was almost pitch black down there and impossible to tell. I shook my head and Seunghyun pulled me back up.</p>
<p>“…We have to call the cops,” I said, out of breath and sweating with the intensity of the sensations hammering at me. “If they don’t close off the road both sides anyone could come driving along and-”</p>
<p>“<em>Yeah</em>.” Seunghyun pursed his lips. “But we’ll have to walk it, to the nearest house at least: if we don’t leave something blocking the road someone else’ll come barrelling round this corner and right off the bank. And all we’ve got to use for a warning is the car.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” I peered back along the dark country road, thankful that Seunghyun had his invariable investigation kit in the boot, flashlight included. It smelled sweet here, almost like roses, or perhaps hibiscus Rose-of-Sharons, but all that shadowy flora on either side of the asphalt was a little eerie in the dark. “But we’d better hurry up or-”</p>
<p>As I was speaking a beam of light swooped out over the sunken bridge and disappeared. Momentarily I smelled the flowers more strongly, all my senses heightened. I saw Seunghyun’s head snap up to squint at the sky, and a second later the light came again, without a doubt from high above us. It was cold and very bright and swept across the noiseless scene, and to my joy I quickly realized what it was. <em>Thank God</em>, I thought fervently, <em>they’re here</em>! It was the searchlights of a police helicopter; I guessed someone on the opposite bank had been quicker than us. The high beams circled the site again and then hovered. I could tell they’d seen us: the light got even brighter, full in my face ‘til I had to narrow my eyes to slits to see anything. Beside me Seunghyun was silent. The searchlights didn’t appear to be bothering him: he was staring past them at the invisible ‘copter, his eyes and his mouth wide open.</p>
<p>Just then I heard the comforting wail of sirens from behind us, and turned away to find two police cars pulling up smartly behind Seunghyun’s vehicle. The light disappeared once it saw them and I hurried over as the officers climbed out.</p>
<p>“What happened to the bridge?” one of them asked me. “Did you witness it?” I nodded, dumb and shivering now it was all over. He set a firm hand on my shoulder, and taking a deep breath I told them.</p>
<p>“We felt it, coming up the road…thought it was an earthquake but then I heard the splash and we managed to stop.” I pointed back towards the river. “It’s gone – completely!”</p>
<p>“Anyone on it?” said the man in charge.</p>
<p>“I dunno. Couldn’t see any other cars.” He nodded at one of his colleagues and they retreated to their squad car, presumably to call the police divers.</p>
<p>“And who’s that you’re with?” he asked, gesturing at Seunghyun with his pen. “Either of you hurt?”</p>
<p>“My friend. No…no, just shaken up.” I gave him a faint smile; we really <em>were</em> lucky.</p>
<p>“Where’re you two heading?”</p>
<p>“Home. Seoul, we were on a sightseeing trip…”</p>
<p>“Right. Call him over, will you? We’ll take his statement and your details and then you boys had better head right home.” The officer’s tone implied that we’d probably been up to something nefarious (he was eyeing my hairdo dubiously), so I wasn’t about to argue with him: I was certain this guy would bring back the curfew in two shakes.</p>
<p>“Sure. Seunghyun?” I called. He didn’t reply when I repeated it at a shout so I trooped over, arms folded across my chest to reassure myself, and fetched him. He was still staring at the sky where the helicopter had been hovering; if I’d just come across him I’d have thought he was hypnotized. “<em>Seunghyun</em>.” No answer. I touched his forearm and he jumped, tearing his eyes away from the dark expanse above us to blink down at me, and I began to wonder if he was in shock; he’d been driving, after all, and to all intents and purposes his braking foot had saved my life. I took hold of him gently, caressing his wristbone with my thumb to try and soothe him. “The cops wanna get your statement,” I said, and gave him a smile. He blinked again, then seemed to come back to himself: I could feel his body return to life. He nodded shortly.</p>
<p>Seunghyun’s conversation with the police was monosyllabic but excited, an odd combination on him. In the headlights of the squad cars his skin was very white, and I could see his hands trembling worse than mine. The cops obviously gave him the same diagnosis I had, ‘cos they asked if he wanted to see a medical professional. In the face of his shock and distress I began to feel better, more able to handle the situation<em> and</em> him; one of us had to have his shit together, after all.</p>
<p>“You’d better drive,” said the lead officer to me, jerking his head at Seunghyun, who was standing with his jaw set and his hands jammed in his pockets. “Unless you’re not up to it, we can send you both back with a constable.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be okay.” All I wanted now was to get Seunghyun home safe and go to bed myself. Maybe I’d take him to Daesung’s. Maybe we could even stay together. All I knew was that I was dog-tired: this on top of the Hyunjae thing…what a day.</p>
<p>“If the shock gets worse – for either of you – go to hospital.” The policeman looked to the remains of the bridge, then back to us. “You’re both very lucky young men.”</p>
<p>They got back in their cars and pulled around Seunghyun and myself to drive up onto the bank, leaving a flashing ‘road closed’ sign further back. Now they were done with us we found ourselves ignored, and I was free to deal with Seunghyun and his peculiar behaviour.</p>
<p>“Hey,” I said softly, “gimme your keys.” He turned to look at me but without the lights I could barely see him. I went and fetched the torch from his kit and shone it on his face: he was pale as paper but his eyes were glowing. “…Seunghyun?” I murmured, uncertain of what this reaction was and what I oughta do about it. “You sure you’re okay?” Slowly, very slowly a huge, perfect-toothed smile spread up his face, from his expressive mouth to his eyes. I’m not gonna lie, he looked fucking <em>nuts</em>.</p>
<p>“<em>Jiyong</em>…” he said. Could a voice be affectionate when it was that intent? His gaze sent a shiver up my spine and heat to my stomach at the same time.</p>
<p>“What <em>is</em> it?” Seunghyun gave the grin a few more seconds, then looked skyward again and briefly closed his eyes; if he’d been a more traditional man I’d have thought he was praying. He took a deep breath; then he opened his eyes, punched the air in what could only be triumph, and let out a whoop like a Hollywood cowboy.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>!!”</p>
<p>“Dude, you’re freaking me out right now,” I thought it high time to announce. Seunghyun didn’t apologize; instead he flung both arms around me and hugged me with such ardour it lifted me right off my feet. He whirled us both round, then set me down and pressed a clumsy, excited kiss to my temple, bumping his nose against my skull.</p>
<p>“You’re my fucking lucky charm, Jiyong!!” he yelled. “First the ghost and now <em>this</em>!”</p>
<p>“Ow!” I wanted to bask in the sensation of his lips but as he was shouting right in my ear I had to be content with the knowledge that he’d kissed me. Not that it meant anything, not to Seunghyun; he was practically bouncing with amazement.</p>
<p>“You told me to make a wish – and I did!”</p>
<p>“What d’you mean?!” I knocked lightly on his chest and he loosened his hold on me enough that I could look up and get a good view of his face: he looked both awestruck and gleeful.</p>
<p>“An <em>encounter</em>,” he said in a worshipful voice. “A real encounter. At <em>last</em>. Oh my God…”</p>
<p>“But I didn’t see anything!” I protested. My mind was still full of the awful tangle of metal that was all that was left of the bridge.</p>
<p>“That light! That <em>shape</em>! It was a-” He paused and, forcing himself into an expression of scientific inquiry that sat ill on his dazzling features, demanded: “What <em>did</em> you see?” I shrugged helplessly.</p>
<p>“I dunno – a helicopter, a police one; or maybe one of those U.S. military ‘copters seconded for search and rescue.”</p>
<p>“It didn’t make any noise! And more, it silenced the whole damn place!”</p>
<p>“I don’t <em>know</em>, Seunghyun.” Talk about humans seeing what they want to see! But he looked so…not only happy and not only terrified – <em>overwhelmed</em>. I set my hand gently on his forearm; all I wanted to do was calm him. “<em>You</em> saw something, though. Whatever it was, I’m glad for you.” He’d waited so long. Besides, he’d been the one musing on the nature of sightings; in this moment what did it matter if it was ‘real’ or not? It was real to him.</p>
<p>“I gotta go write this down.” Seunghyun covered my hand with his own, squeezed it briefly; his fingers were still trembling. “You have to as well.” I pouted to myself: I personally didn’t believe any of it for a second, and I knew where this was going. “Then we have to contact KUFOS, they’ll want to interview us.”</p>
<p>“Seriously?”</p>
<p>“Come on,” he begged. “We hardly ever get to interview people! And it’s important to document <em>everything</em>. I don’t think I’ll believe it ‘til I see it written down – and the others certainly won’t.” I sighed.</p>
<p>“Can it wait ‘til tomorrow, at least?”</p>
<p>“…I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Get in, then.” We walked back to the Presto, Seunghyun so busy staring straight up at the sky that he bashed his crotch on the bumper. That woke him up. “I’ll drive. We’ll have to take a detour with the bridge out.” I grabbed the map, wanting to get home. There were a couple of other cars pulled up behind us now, the drivers wandering nosily (and warily) toward the flashing police lights. Seunghyun hobbled into the passenger seat without paying them any attention and beamed at me maniacally, heedless of the pain. “But I’m telling you, <em>Tabi</em> – if Henry and the rest of those clowns make a circus outta this I am so out! Got it?” I meant it, too; or at least I told myself I did.</p>
<p>“Got it,” he said softly. I could feel his eyes on me all the way back; but I knew his mind was light years away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/XCAurAH.png">  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So there you got a small sample of the classic 'esoteric paranormal discussion'; and let me tell you, if you thought 'damn, that was confusing and boring' you are <em>not</em> gonna like what's coming ^^;</p>
<p>I hope this could provide a few minutes' entertainment for those of you self-isolating/quarantining. Stay safe and keep your mind healthy, learn something new! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong learns about (and laments) a paranormal investigation first-hand.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Seoul papers were full of the news. When I went out to check the next day I was confronted with a wall of black headlines screaming ‘BRIDGE COLLAPSE!’ in bold typeface; anything that close to Seoul (and which might scare a bunch of tabloid readers) was of course worthy of a story. I grabbed a couple of the more trustworthy titles and took them home – across town I imagined Seunghyun was doing the same. When I saw the words ‘no casualties’ I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding, and materially relaxed. No-one seemed to know exactly what had happened to cause the collapse – the <em>Hankyoreh</em> wrote in a roundabout way (but at pointed length) about the failure of the government to maintain the country’s infrastructure. Apparently half our highways were in disrepair. Still, there were going to be checks on all other bridges of a similar age. Excellent. Now all I had to worry about was how Seunghyun and co. would characterize this whole thing.</p><p>It didn’t take long to find out: I was absentmindedly going through some fabric samples for my latest designs (and trying not to remember Seunghyun’s expression when he’d been asking me about Hyunjae) when my phone rang. I couldn’t simply ignore my telephone ‘cos who knew when it might be a high-profile publication asking me to do a piece or some trendy store wanting to stock my clothing? I cursed myself for not getting a separate work line, and picked up.</p><p>“Seen the papers?!” said Seunghyun immediately. I considered hanging up on him – I really did have stuff to do, Sunday or not – but I thought about his puppy-dog eyes and refrained. Besides, if he felt like he couldn’t talk to me about this I knew who he’d seek out instead, and I didn’t wanna encourage <em>that</em>. I’d just have to suffer.</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>“They don’t know what it was!” He sounded triumphant.</p><p>“Neither do you,” I reminded him. “That bridge was built in the Twenties.” Seunghyun ignored this, of course; his gorgeous voice was sizzling with excitement.</p><p>“Got your statement?”</p><p>“Yes,” I lied. I’d jotted down some notes soon after I dropped him off; then I’d crashed out before I could cobble my memories together into anything lucid. Still, I was a pro: I’d be ready for the mixture of dramatics and tedium I knew lay ahead.</p><p>“Meet me at the café by twelve!”</p><p>“It’s <em>Sunday</em>.”</p><p>“So? They’re always open.” Dumb non-Christian establishments. “Henry’s coming,” Seunghyun explained. “He wanted us to go to his place ‘cos all his reference stuff’s there, but his wife put her foot down.” Suddenly the café sounded like a great option. “Can you imagine how wound up he is?!” Sad to say I could.</p><p>“Look, are you people gonna be professional about this?” I said. “I don’t want it to end up a fanboy convention.” Seunghyun hotly protested the idea. “If you can’t do it with some gravitas I’ll take my witness statement to another Society!” I warned him (I knew KUFOS had rivals, they were always bitching about them). Wow, I managed to say that without laughing. Seunghyun let out a horrified sound, and then I did giggle. Nevertheless, I’d only know if I could maintain the laughter once I turned up at the rendezvous – because if Seunghyun took it into his head to bring Hyunjae it’d wipe the smile right off my face.</p><p> </p><p>“Sit!” ordered Henry, pointing at a table some distance from his own. He’d arrived before us and the space was already littered with paper and coffee cups. A cassette recorder sat on the table; Christ, he was really going all out. Seunghyun had turned up alone, thank God. We walked in, had our statements (mine neatly typed and Seunghyun’s almost illegible) wrested from us, and were now being banished while Henry ‘studied’ them. We ordered drinks in the meantime and sat watching the American, who even by himself managed to attract the attention of every person in the place. Occasionally he would say ‘Hah!’ and underline something.</p><p>“I didn’t think mine was <em>that</em> interesting,” I observed to Seunghyun.</p><p>“As long as you were thorough. There’re bound to be some useful comparisons!” My friend’s dark eyes were snapping with anticipation; he hadn’t asked me again what I’d experienced, and he hadn’t read my composition or offered to show me his – but I knew he was dying to relive it. After the KUFOS representative (ginger) gave us permission.</p><p>At last Henry called us back over and we sat opposite him like we were going for a joint job interview. He turned the recorder on. The customers around us obviously thought Henry was some kind of ineffective English teacher – until the conversation got weird.</p><p>“In summary,” said Henry, while the waitress tried to clear up around him, “on the surface both of you experienced pretty much the same thing. You felt a rumbling, then heard the bridge collapse but didn’t see it.”</p><p>“Right,” Seunghyun confirmed while I watched Henry narrowly over my cup. One hint of exaggeration of my statement and he was gonna get an earful.</p><p>“You saw nothing in the water but debris. You were about to leave the car and find a phone to call the cops when what you describe as a ‘cold light’ appeared in the sky and swept the scene.” I nodded. “You both say it was noiseless.”</p><p>“I believe I said it was <em>quiet</em>,” I corrected him. Henry shrugged but made a note, then held up his pen when Seunghyun tried to jump in.</p><p>“We’ll compare differences in a minute!” My friend settled back, complaining under his breath. Henry was obviously enjoying being dictatorial. “You saw more than one beam, correct?” he asked. We nodded. “Then the police arrived by car and the light disappeared.”</p><p>“Just like that,” said Seunghyun. When I turned his handsome face was glowing; clearly that’d seemed extraordinary to him, while to me it was only logical: squad cars turn up, chopper isn’t needed anymore.</p><p>“The cops took your statements and you drove home without anything else unusual happening.”</p><p>“Unless you count Seunghyun,” I added. That had certainly made the car ride a spooky experience; I’d had to wait and watch him go into his apartment before I felt comfortable getting a taxi – if he had his way I’d thought he might spend the rest of the night on the pavement staring at the sky.</p><p>“All right.” Henry pushed a sheet of paper at us. “Sign this recap, will you?” His hangul were neater than Seunghyun’s.</p><p>“Is this really necessary?”</p><p>“Yes!” barked Henry and Seunghyun, their thin façade of professionalism cracking. I signed, pushed it over to the idiot next to me; then Henry took it back and gave it a look of deep affection. I gathered this was a rare treat – after all, who’d actually <em>volunteer</em> to be interrogated by KUFOS?</p><p>“Now,” continued Henry, his little blue eyes containing a gleam to match Seunghyun’s, “the differences!” Seunghyun leaned forward eagerly. “First off, Jiyong says he smelled flowers.” The ‘investigator’ gave my statement an approving look. “His descriptions are very vivid.” I’m a professional journalist, of course they were!</p><p>“While we were by the car,” I agreed calmly. “And when the searchlights came over. But it’s spring and there’s vegetation on both sides of that road, so…makes sense.”</p><p>“Hmm!” Henry scribbled something. “Tabi, you didn’t?”</p><p>“I didn’t smell anything.” I couldn’t see why this was significant, or why the redhead was still writing.</p><p>“What I find interesting,” said Henry, “was that you said the smell got stronger when the light appeared!”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“Tell you later.” Irritating bugger. “I’ve gotta check some books first.” Seunghyun looked curious. “So let’s move on to the light!”</p><p>“Yes!” Seunghyun smacked the table beside me, making me jump and an elderly couple glare at us. “<em>Let’s</em>.” Henry placed our statements side by side in an anal retentive way.</p><p>“You described it as helicopter searchlights,” he said, pointing at me with his pen. “Did you see the actual helicopter?”</p><p>“No, it was too bright. But it was, it looked just like the movies.”</p><p>“Hah!” exclaimed Seunghyun. Henry looked pleased.</p><p>“So you can’t <em>definitively</em> say it was.”</p><p>“It <em>was</em>,” I insisted like a person capable of logical deduction.</p><p>“Huh!” (Seunghyun again.)</p><p>“All right.” Henry aimed the pen in the other man’s direction. “Now you!”</p><p>“I <em>did</em> see a craft,” Seunghyun insisted. When I glanced down I saw his hands were trembling with an echo of last night; whatever this had been, he wasn’t gonna brush it off so easily. I had the sinking feeling we were about to get nuts. Henry gestured encouragingly. “It was only a shadow, Jiyong’s right, the light was blinding – but it was <em>there</em>, something black against the sky!”</p><p>“What shape?” Helicopter shape, I was pretty damn sure. Seunghyun chewed his lip for a moment; it looked delightful, but for once I was in no mood.</p><p>“I think…cylindrical. Much longer than a ‘copter. But that wasn’t even the weirdest thing!” he proclaimed, catching my unimpressed look. “It was how the damn thing vanished as soon as the cop cars showed up! I mean, the light didn’t travel up and away like a helicopter leaving. It was gone in an <em>instant</em> – and so was the craft behind it.” I raised my hand. “No,” said Seunghyun, anticipating my complaint, “it didn’t just coast away ‘cos the police came! If it was a real official helicopter it would’ve hung around to light the scene so they could examine it – especially if there were divers on the way.”</p><p>“As if you know so much about police procedure,” I grumbled. Like many citizens of South Korea at the time I had small faith in the police doing anything by the book; I felt Seunghyun was cherry-picking his details here.</p><p>“Seunghyun.” Henry was regarding his friend solemnly. “Using your head – using everything we’ve ever learned – can you honestly say you believe this was a real sighting?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>.” He didn’t hesitate. “What I saw, it tallies with so many other encounters.” He shivered, but his face was alight. “And it wasn’t only that – it was how it felt.” Oh, <em>seriously</em>? “Something was looking at us,” said Seunghyun. “It felt like…like a static shock all over my body, like my hair was standing on end. And something <em>saw us looking back</em>.” Ugh, the way he spoke, it gave me a shiver too; he believed it, he’d <em>felt</em> it, he really had. I didn’t care for it at all.</p><p>“…<em>Dude</em>,” said Henry, slowly but with almost religious fervour.</p><p>“I know. I <em>know</em>.” They stared at each other while our waitress came and took our cups away. Boy, they really wanted us to leave. Seunghyun’s face told me it wasn’t happening anytime soon.</p><p>“Know what this reminds me of?” asked Henry breathlessly. “I thought it as soon as you called me – it’s like that whole year crammed into one night. All we need now are some cryptids and some MIBs!”</p><p>“Fuck. I know!”</p><p>“Know <em>what</em>?” I inquired (third wheel of the paranormal world, that’s me). The two ufologists met each other’s eyes in a moment of total accord.</p><p>“<em>Point Pleasant</em>,” they said simultaneously. “Bridge, check,” continued Seunghyun, holding up one thumb.</p><p>“UFO, check,” added Henry; Seunghyun held up another finger. I coughed meaningfully.</p><p>“<em>I</em> identified it!” I reminded them.</p><p>“Misidentified!” screeched Henry, now totally overexcited. The sound of breaking glass told me someone downstairs had been given a nasty shock. “Like Tabi said: there was no sound and more than one beam – very unusual for a helicopter. And he saw something, and <em>felt</em> something – we can’t discount subjective sensations, especially electric ones.”</p><p>“It was windy! Between that and the river it’s no wonder we didn’t hear the thing.” I was clearly the only rational person in the room.</p><p>“No, it silenced <em>everything</em> – the wind, the river, the whole time those lights were on us! And the light was <em>wrong</em>,” countered Seunghyun, jutting out his handsome chin obstinately. “Too bright and too cold for regular police or military craft.”</p><p>“So! <em>U</em>FO.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt, then gave up. “Whaddya think?” Henry asked my companion. “How close <em>was</em> it? CE-2? Any physical traces of it after it left?”</p><p>“No-oooo,” said Seunghyun reluctantly. “CE-1: only a visual confirmation.” Henry shrugged and made a note.</p><p>“Any Mothmen around?” They both giggled – hysterical, the pair of them.</p><p>“No.” Seunghyun’s eyes were gleaming. “But it’s similar, right?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>.”</p><p>“Pardon me,” I interrupted, before they could convince themselves we’d seen the Starship Enterprise. “If you’re gonna ignore my ‘testimony’ completely you might at least explain what you’re yakking about!” Henry opened his mouth. “Not you!” I told him; we’d be sitting here all bloody day. Seunghyun forced himself to calm down a bit and shot me an apologetic glance.</p><p>“It’s simple, really.” I caught Henry’s trademark ‘Hah!’ as he bent to check the cassette recorder; but I <em>liked</em> simple. “There was a big UFO flap over this American town called Point Pleasant,” Seunghyun informed me. “In ’66, I think it started. At the same time people – and I mean <em>lots</em> of people were reporting this stuff – started seeing a winged cryptid. The press called it the ‘Mothman’ and it ended up as some harbinger-of-doom figure; it was even spotted in Chernobyl last year, right before the catastrophe – but the Point Pleasant people were <em>right</em>. In December ’67 their bridge collapsed.” I gotta admit, that made my eyes widen a bit, though it was mostly at the frightening memory of the night before.</p><p>“Was anyone hurt?” I asked, being a normal person with the right priorities. Seunghyun nodded grimly.</p><p>“Yeah; it was a big bridge, busy road. Nearly fifty people died.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“What caused it?!” said Henry, unable to resist jumping in. He bounced up from his chair and began to pace around the table; the couple beside us quickly decided they were done with their drinks and left. “Stress corrosion, like they told everyone? The UFOs? Some Native American curse, or the Mothman himself, or the Men in Black who’d been hanging around all year?” Henry pointed a demanding finger at us. There being only one obvious answer I didn’t bother responding, while beside me Seunghyun looked too enthralled to say anything. “Bridge, UFOs,” re-counted the redhead. “And they say bodies of water are magnets for the paranormal!”</p><p>“Didn’t you say loads of people witnessed this Pleasant shit?” I challenged them. They both looked at me. “Well who else is gonna corroborate <em>this</em> encounter? Only Seunghyun ‘saw’ it!” It was obvious they thought I was the biggest party-pooper in Seoul. “As far as I’m concerned the only thing these stories have in common is ‘bridge’: not giant bat-men, not spacecraft, not government spooks – they’re not even on the same damn continent!” There was a disconsolate silence.</p><p>“…Know what?” said Henry after a minute (Seunghyun and I being too busy pouting for opposite reasons). “He might have a point.” My friend heaved a despondent sigh. “We need more data.” Henry sprawled back into his seat. “At least more witnesses; otherwise this is no better than when Mr. Park said those Nordics were gonna make him part of their breeding programme.”</p><p>“You suppose we could ask the cops?” mused Seunghyun. “They must’ve seen <em>something</em>.” I didn’t waste my time point out that yes, they’d seen the same <em>police helicopter </em>and therefore gone about their business as normal. He and Henry began to make a post-encounter investigation plan; when they got as far as the MUFON handbook I mentally checked out and lolled there watching Seunghyun’s wonderful profile animated with a level of mania I’d only got a glimpse of last night. It made me feel a little weird, seeing the emergence of this side of him, the side I tried to help him hide from the public and which had always put me off getting closer to him; or perhaps I was still in shock. The sole thing to be grateful for now was that he hadn’t mentioned Hyunjae once.</p><p>I just hoped that, when they inevitably turned up nothing, this whole thing would go away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I opened my door the next morning to find my hopes dashed: Seunghyun was standing in front of me almost vibrating with passion. It was a sight I’d often fantasized about – but most definitely not like <em>this</em>.</p><p>“Look at this!” Seunghyun practically screamed at me while thrusting a piece of newspaper in my face. I squinted at him blearily; he’d held down my apartment buzzer for a minute straight while I struggled out of bed to figure out what the fuck was going on. When I saw it was him and realized what the time was I was tempted not to let him in, but he kept buzzing me so I gave up. “<em>Look</em> at it!” I looked at him instead: he seemed crazier today (‘Henry-crazy’, I categorized it) than I’d ever seen him, even that night.</p><p>“…You wanna come in?” I asked, to stop the ahjumma next door calling the police. I shut the door behind him and hiked up my pyjama pants, <em>then</em> looked: it was an interior page from what looked like the <em>Kyunghyang</em> newspaper. Near the bottom was a small text-only article. Seunghyun shook it at me impatiently. “Well I can’t read it like that, can I?” He stopped. I read it. “Someone else saw a UFO?” I surmised, stalking into the kitchen and groping for coffee.</p><p>“Two other people!” Seunghyun, who seemed to have lost his volume control, followed me. It was the first time ever that he’d seen me ungroomed and undressed (and the first time he’d set foot in my apartment) but I knew he hadn’t noticed; I would always find that one of the most charming and at the same time exasperating things about him. “The same night we saw it-”</p><p>“<em>You</em> saw it. You know what I saw and didn’t see, you were there when Henry took my report. Right?” My impossible friend waved this aside.</p><p>“The same night,” he repeated. “And look – it even mentions the bridge collapse!”</p><p>“It only says it was in the same neighbourhood.” I took the boiling kettle off its stand and poured him a cup – not that he needed any caffeine. “You’re doing what you lot always complain about the ‘amateur’ investigations doing: jumping to conclusions!” Seunghyun took an angry sip, then yelped and put the mug down. “Well, aren’t you?” I said more gently. “You’re inferring a causal relationship. Look, if there was something <em>otherworldly</em> up there you can’t prove it had anything to do with the bridge – and frankly it’s far more likely that if those people were in the same area they saw the same police ‘copter as me and made the same mistake as <em>you</em>.” Seunghyun glowered at me; then he leaned back against the counter and let out a deep sigh.</p><p>“You have to be a killjoy, don’t you.”</p><p>“Not exactly,” I said, adding cream to my own coffee with calm and unexcitable movements. “I just want you to investigate this properly. You’ll want to look back on this later and be satisfied with your work: protocol, logic, all that MUFON stuff.” This was a good line, I figured; better than simply telling him he was being ridiculous. Seunghyun’s lovely face drooped from his eyebrows to his lips; he looked like a depressed basset hound.</p><p>“Now I know what they all mean when they say it’s harder when it’s <em>you</em>. It’s so difficult to be objective about your own scenario!”</p><p>“That’s life, baby.” I spoke flippantly, but reached up and slid an arm round his broad shoulders. “So let’s get on with ours: do the procedures, sure. And after that just treasure that you finally <em>saw</em> something, you joined the club – and then we can get back to normal.”</p><p>“That’s what you want, huh,” said Seunghyun, as if I was a very unusual human being.</p><p>“Yeah.” I gave him back his coffee, now cooled safely like I’d (hopefully) managed to cool him. “<em>You’ve</em> got to go to work before you get fired. <em>I’m</em> in the middle of my biggest collection yet, I’m getting new magazine commissions every week…I don’t have the mental space to let something as intangible as this get on top of me.” I moved closer to him, and as usual the lean strength of his body made me feel warm and secure. “I just need my friend to be on top of things too.”</p><p>“…All right,” said Seunghyun, with a long exhale that I knew meant patience but not resignation. “I’ll try to keep this strictly KUFOS.” I darted a glance at him through my eyelashes, we were too close for me to lift my head and look; it’d be so intimate and, in our current emotional states, too dangerous: if I got too near I could ruin everything. Seunghyun smiled at me anyway, the smile of faint astonishment and real pleasure he always seemed to have for me, and said: “I’ll try – <em>for my friend</em>.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>If I’d thought the KUFOS collective would make a big dumb fuss about Seunghyun’s encounter, I was wrong. It was very surprising – I just couldn’t quite make up my mind if it was a pleasant surprise or not.</p><p>I accompanied Seunghyun to that meeting for moral support. Not that he needed any, I might add; I simply wanted to be there to rein him in, as well as monitor what Henry was gonna say about me in their official report. I didn’t want to come off as a nutjob! The both of them were jittery with excitement, and I was of course lumped in with them as Seunghyun’s regular plus-one. As I stood there with my tea and biscuit giving the church hall a mutinous stare of boredom I saw Hyunjae arrive. I pursed my lips – surely Seunghyun would be dying to tell her all about it. To my great satisfaction he gave her an enthusiastic wave but quickly returned to ganging up on me with Henry to try and convince me to back them. It was such a relief to have him ignore her that I was almost tempted to agree; thank God for imaginary UFOs!</p><p>“First on the agenda,” announced Mr. Lee once we’d settled down (I’d nabbed my spot by Seunghyun quick but was now carefully leaning away so as not to associate myself morally with him and Henry): “Member dues.”</p><p>“Seriously?!” hollered Henry, who’d come armed with what looked like a police file but was obviously the official ‘materials’ on our case. “We’ve got something actually <em>happening</em> here!”</p><p>“Nevertheless, you all owe ten thousand won for the quarter, so pay up.” The members dug dutifully in their anorak pockets while Henry grumbled away under his breath like a boiling kettle. Glancing at Seunghyun I saw him hand over twenty to the old man.</p><p>“Seunghyun,” I said with justifiable suspicion, “why’re you paying double?” He grinned sheepishly and pushed his specs up his nose.</p><p>“I wouldn’t expect you to pay for yourself – you don’t even like it here.” Jesus, if he wanted to treat me he could’ve taken me to The Plaza. This was the cutest, and also the lamest, bit of gallantry I’d ever experienced. “I know you just come to support me,” added Seunghyun happily.</p><p>“I’m not telling them I saw a UFO!” I warned him in a hiss. He gave me the puppy-dog eyes. “Why should I pay dues anyway? I am <em>not</em> a member.”</p><p>“C’mon. Just give up and accept it.” We debated my status in heated whispers for a minute, ‘til Mr. Lee cleared his throat pointedly and we subsided. I slouched back in my chair (then remembered this was the signature KUFOS posture and stopped). What a dilemma: come along with Seunghyun and end up both bored and mistaken for one of these nerds, or stay away and risk him directing his enthusiasm and attention at Hyunjae again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw she was regarding us curiously; I made a sour face at my Hobson’s choice but pulled my chair a little closer to my friend. Seunghyun beamed at me.</p><p>“Well, then.” Mr. Lee placed his ill-gotten gains in his waist pouch and walked his careful old-man walk back to his chair. Next to Seunghyun I could feel Henry was about to boil over. The leader peered at the agenda through his glasses. “I think we can… Item two: possible encounter report.” Henry and Seunghyun sat bolt upright; they seemed to be literally quivering with anticipation – when I reached out curiously to poke the taller man in the bicep he gasped and leaned forward as if my touch was a starter’s pistol. Mr. Lee ignored their theatrics completely. “…Mm. With one of our own, it seems!” A ripple went around the circle. “All right, go on then: begin.” Henry leapt to his feet, flung out his arm in a gesture that encompassed both Seunghyun and myself (I glared at him), and began.</p><p>It was not a well-regulated meeting – not once Seunghyun got going. I sat and listened to him soliloquize about our near-miss with the bridge and everything that came after it. He made it sound like a sci-fi movie, and came off rather cooler and more like a hard-boiled detective than I recalled him being; I’d have laughed if he hadn’t been making me look crazy too. Henry tempered some of Seunghyun’s more dramatic statements with quotes from the written reports. In the end I think they got the gist across (somehow) and avoided misrepresenting me too badly. I could see Hyunjae looking fascinated and like she was dying to put her hand up. So as soon as Henry sat down Mr. Lee opened the floor for questions. I mean…you can just imagine.</p><p>Amidst all the shouting I was eventually able to discern two camps. The members who were still waiting for their own first encounters didn’t believe Seunghyun – they thought it was either wishful thinking (which it totally was, but I bit my tongue and refrained from joining in) or an out-and-out fib to get one up on them. The immaturity would’ve been staggering if I didn’t already know what these people were like. The other group consisted of the guys who <em>had</em> experienced CEs or abductions, or at least said or thought they had. I could tell they believed Seunghyun; they just didn’t think it was interesting enough to spend a whole meeting on.</p><p>“CE-1, big deal,” Mr. Park (of the ‘Nordic breeding programme’ claim) said dismissively. “Come back when you’ve met an entity!”</p><p>“A craft could <em>be</em> an entity,” Seunghyun shot back with his combative face on. “We don’t know they’re not alive!” The older members (the nuts-and-bolts contingent, I presumed) shouted this down immediately. Henry dropped his pretense of being neutral and joined in on Seunghyun’s side. I watched my friend’s face as the two of them banded together to push the significance of our ‘encounter’: a peculiar expression, and at the same time rather endearing. It was clear he was frustrated, but at the same time he seemed to be relishing the fight. And it went on. And on.</p><p>By the time the meeting closed I was knackered; I’d had to step in and speak up in the role of unbiased observer a couple of times, which I didn’t particularly enjoy. The KUFOS members put even less stock in my opinions than they did in Seunghyun’s, and now I knew most of them thought I was a classic dumb blonde. While the others were packing away the chairs (still arguing) I found Seunghyun pretty eager to go and debate the psychedelic-versus-solid issue with Hyunjae – he must’ve noticed the couple of times she shook her head. I took hold of his messenger bag strap before he could drift over to her.</p><p>“How’re you feeling?” I inquired. “Better now you’ve got it all out?” To my (only mildly guilty) satisfaction he seemed to forget about her and turned to peer down at me; his high cheekbones were pink, eyes glinting behind his glasses.</p><p>“I’m <em>pumped</em>!” He raised a hand to the departing Henry and mimed a telephone call. “The other witnesses from the newspaper? These jerks can’t argue with <em>that</em>.” I pointed out that they could, and had. “They know I’m right!” Seunghyun said, screwing up his handsome face as a couple of dissenters stumped past us to the exit.</p><p>“What now, then?” I yawned; he looked amazed at my sangfroid. “You’ve done your report, Henry’s gonna force them to file it – somewhere. So can we get back to normal?” Seunghyun let out a deep laugh as if I was the village idiot.</p><p>“Oh, no. I’m gonna find out what <em>really</em> happened: I’m gonna interview those other people, get statements, do research – Henry can ask the MUFON guys in America if they have any records like this.” He slapped me on the back. “And then I’m going to stuff it down those idiots’ throats!”</p><p>“Are you planning to do any actual work in the meantime?” I demanded. “I’m trying to kick-start your career here, remember?”</p><p>“Sure, sure.” Seunghyun granted me one of those warm velvet smiles (with just a <em>hint</em> of maniac) that made me want to melt. “You can help me get the research done in between – you’re a journalist, right?!”</p><p>“Ohh no, Mister!” I took his arm and marched him summarily out of the church hall and onto the sidewalk, where I hoped the night breeze might cool his jets. “I’ll listen to you all you please – but you can count me right out.”</p><p>“But as a member-”</p><p>“I’m not a member!”</p><p>“This receipt says you are,” Seunghyun told me jubilantly, waving a slip of paper in my face. “It can be your shadow hours!”</p><p>“No.” God, I wanted my bed. “Get Henry to help you – he’ll be so grateful he’ll give you his firstborn.” He chuckled, then squeezed my arm against his side.</p><p>“It’s just…” That hopeful look again. “It’d be a lot more fun with you. You were there.”</p><p>“But I don’t <em>wanna</em>.”</p><p>“Let’s go for a drink,” he suggested, “and see how you feel then.”</p><p>“Not changing my mind.”</p><p>“A lot of drinks.” Sucker.</p><p>“You’re paying,” I warned him, secure in my iron conviction that I would <em>never</em> submit to joining KUFOS. Seunghyun looked optimistic. As I steered him in the direction of the nearest bar with a clean floor I allowed myself a minute smile: he was on a losing bet with this one.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Ji, what happened to you?” inquired Youngbae when I dragged myself over to his label’s studio to offer my advice on styling for his TV appearance. He kindly added: “You look like shit.”</p><p>“Nothing,” I said evasively, paranoia making me twist my head in search of a mirror. I could hardly tell Bae I’d spent the best part of yesterday evening defending one nerd against a bunch of even bigger nerds, especially when I didn’t believe anything <em>anyone</em> was yelling the entire time. Or that I’d defiantly taken all the cocktails Seunghyun could throw at me to prove I was serious about not enabling him in his dorky quest. Or that I’d been awake half the night, alternately throwing up and devising plans to keep Seunghyun’s attention on me and off the eminently suitable Hyunjae. I’d concluded that if I wasn’t going to actually help him I <em>was</em> gonna have to be totally open and supportive whenever he wanted to discuss the ‘encounter’, at least ‘til real life pushed it to the back of his mind. Christ. No wonder I looked haggard.</p><p>“You reckon you’re up to this?” He gestured to his manager, who was phoning through for his stylists to come in. “This is a really important TV spot.” I scowled, which made my head ache worse. No way in hell were UFOs (imaginary or otherwise) gonna put <em>my</em> career in the toilet!</p><p>“Course,” I assured him, and produced the scrapbook of looks I’d made just for him. “Roll out the Wardrobe!”</p><p> </p><p>Later we went out for dinner: top-tier French restaurant, my natural habitat (especially as my pop star pal was paying). I’d done a decent job with his team and we’d agreed on a couple more looks for upcoming performances – I’d even managed to shoehorn in some of the space-age aesthetic my own collection would be boasting. Youngbae was a kind soul, he was happy to let me do a bit of free advertising all over his muscular bod; my look would be showcased on national TV and my name would be credited. An impressive day’s work, considering my hangover from the pit of Hell.</p><p>“Hey. Space cadet.” Bae snapped his fingers under my nose and I looked up from my bowl of <em>moules frites</em> with a start. “Tell me what’s going on.” The poor guy seemed so genuinely concerned that I immediately started feeling guilty about disregarding his good advice re: Seunghyun – after all, look where <em>that</em> had got me. He waved a green bean in my direction, eyes narrowing. “Dude. You’re still seeing that guy, aren’t you.”</p><p>“I…yeah.” I leaned my forehead in my palm; my eyes felt tired and itchy. “But it’s not that.” I mean…it was, but only partly.</p><p>“What, then?” He gestured for a waiter to bring more wine (the kill-or-cure treatment, I supposed). So I told him about the bridge: how frightened I’d been, how I’d had to deal with the police and Seunghyun’s shock and the aftermath of almost being killed. Of course I didn’t mention even a hint of Close Encounters. I didn’t have to: sweet Youngbae was gazing at me with horror.</p><p>“Sheesh, Ji, why didn’t you tell me earlier?! No wonder, you’re probably traumatized!” I wanted to explain that KUFOS catfights were more traumatic than any near-death experience, but bit my tongue; I didn’t need to make this worse.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“And I’m your <em>friend</em>,” Youngbae urged me almost crossly. “What else am I here for?! You’re meant to lean on your friends when stuff like this happens.”</p><p>“I mean, I’ve been talking to Seunghyun about it a lot.” I wasn’t sure if that exactly helped, though it’d been a distraction from the very real memory of nearly dying.</p><p>“Hmph!” Bae was too nice a person to look thoroughly scathing, but you could tell by the way he sniffed what he thought of Seunghyun as a rock to lean on. “Did you even tell Soojoo?” he went on. “Dami? Your mum?” I shook my head, the week had been too full of alien nonsense for any such thing. “You know what we said last time,” added Youngbae. “You go on one field trip with this guy and look where it gets you!”</p><p>“It wasn’t his fault.”</p><p>“Does Minwoo know about him?” demanded Bae, changing tack. I took a slug of Muscadet.</p><p>“He knows I have a weird friend called Seunghyun.” My other friend gave me a censorious look. What, was I meant to confess to my lover that I was desperately attracted to a straight guy? No way: I liked my dignity.</p><p>“I think you’re asking for trouble.” Youngbae’s mother-hen aspect came with a tendency to nag. “Look at you: he’s obviously not good for you.” As if Seunghyun was to blame for this! Well…maybe half of this; but the other half required that I defend him.</p><p>“He’s a good man,” I snapped, my head throbbing again. Youngbae opened his mouth so I rushed on. “I can handle him <em>and</em> his goddamn flying saucers!”</p><p>Whatever retort my musician buddy had been about to make was stifled by the tinkle of breaking glass and a chorus of surprised ‘Oh!’s from the next table. I turned to see one of the chic ladies had been clumsy with a champagne flute, though they were all proclaiming their innocence in tipsy amazement, as if the thing had magically shattered in midair. Drunk socialites, and very pretty. Youngbae was peering in their direction too; a moment later one of the women noticed him, froze, then elbowed her gal pal in the side with a squeak of excitement. Next thing all four of them were sidling over to our table while a waiter mopped up their spilled drink. Giggling, they shyly asked for Youngbae’s autograph. Excellent: I was off the hook. I only wondered how long my charitable mood toward Seunghyun would last. Well, so long as he didn’t try and recruit me to help him with his investigation he’d be sitting pretty. In fact, in a defiant reaction against Youngbae’s good sense, I couldn’t wait to see him again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As it happened Seunghyun was off with Henry tracking down the unsuspecting witnesses from the newspaper, so it was several days before I caught up with him at the bookstore.</p><p>“They weren’t super keen to be interviewed,” Seunghyun admitted resignedly. He blew on his drink. We were in a dark little coffee shop in the street behind his workplace. If it was only a bit more stylish it might’ve been noir, like I was meeting a P.I. on the tail of a hot clue. As it stood we merely looked squalid.</p><p>“Somehow I’m not surprised.” Coming face to face with an effervescent Henry was the last thing any ordinary citizen wanted to do after running into a fake UFO.</p><p>“We had to agree to give them aliases.”</p><p>“So they <em>did</em> speak to you.” That had to be a coup. “And what did they say they saw?”</p><p>“Same as me!” Seunghyun’s face came triumphantly to life; I clicked my tongue at him. “Same weird cold light, same shadowy craft behind it. They didn’t even know about the bridge ‘til the next day.”</p><p>“Same misidentification,” I said, but without rancour. He gave me a pitying smile; thought he’d scored a point, eh?</p><p>“Good job we got to ‘em first,” he continued, slurping at his coffee like a lout (his lunch break finished in ten minutes). I raised an eyebrow. “I saw two other guys pull up as we were leaving – probably tabloid journalists!”</p><p>“Or just people who live down that street.”</p><p>“Nah, they were acting really shady.”</p><p>“And so of course you stopped to exchange details and compare notes like nice mature researchers.”</p><p>“Nope!”</p><p>“Thought not.”</p><p>“They disappeared pretty sharpish, anyway,” said Seunghyun with the vindictive gleam of a true KUFOS member in his eye. “Trying to sneak around! Well they’ll soon find those witnesses are all interviewed out. This is <em>our</em> scoop.”</p><p>“You’re so lame,” I reminded him.</p><p>“You wanna write up their reports nice and professional?” Ever the optimist.</p><p>“What d’you think?” He pushed his lower lip out deliberately; Christ, it looked adorable, the big goof. “Anyway,” I added hurriedly before his cuteness could get to me, “I have a meeting about accessories!”</p><p>“I’m sure that’ll set the world ablaze,” Seunghyun said, deadpan.</p><p>“Shut up. And you’ve gotta get your head out of the sky for that job tomorrow.” To my approval he made a visible effort to rein himself in.</p><p>“I’ll do my best,” he promised as we went to pay. “Seeing as it’s for you!” That put a smile on my face all the way home.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I’d managed to score Seunghyun a modelling gig for the upcoming Winter line of a prestigious foreign hiking brand, so I was feeling smug as I made my way home (and also like he oughta fire his agency, they were doing nothing for him). I’d been very careful when I prepped him for the audition last week, instructing him to wax lyrical about his long treks up Seoraksan (but under no circumstances to mention what he did up there). I was confident that if he just kept his mouth shut he’d wow them as usual. Thus it was with a light heart that I gave myself a soothing eye bath (they were pink from all the late nights), changed into my best ‘business with an edge’ outfit, and shut my apartment door behind me, head full of chrome wristbands and earrings and purses; the accessory designer would really put the finishing touches on my futuristic collection.</p><p>I let the building door swing to, heard the lock click, and hustled along the sidewalk in search of a cab. The streets in the centre of the city were buzzing again today, there was an industrial strike in the offing and it’d turned into another protest – the radio in the coffee shop said the riot squad had been called out. On days like this I figured it was best not to take the subway. Not that I was a coward, I just…didn’t like mess.</p><p>“Mr. Kwon?” I turned, still thinking about the young protesters, and frowned. Was this one of my neighbours? Or someone I oughta know from work? The guy in front of me didn’t look like a fashion <em>anything</em>. He was around fifty and in a nondescript suit with the tie crooked, like he didn’t usually wear one. Behind his unfashionable spectacles were eyes so small I couldn’t read their expression. I gave him a quizzical hurry-up look; he seemed ill at ease. “My name’s Park Myungsoo,” he said quickly. “Ah…could we talk a minute?”</p><p>“About what?” Maybe he was gonna complain about how loud I played my music in the flat. He surely couldn’t be an admirer; where would someone like him have heard about someone like <em>me</em>? In any case, I wasn’t particularly inclined to talk to him: I needed to get to this meeting. Park fumbled his glasses further up his aquiline nose.</p><p>“We…heard about the UFO sighting near the bridge collapse,” he announced. I narrowed my eyes, thrown: who the hell <em>was</em> this guy? “We read the reports in the papers,” he went on, “but could you tell us what <em>you</em> saw?”</p><p>“What’re you talking about?!” I tried to sound irritable but I was suddenly mighty suspicious – <em>I</em> hadn’t been in the paper, and the name Kwon Jiyong was the last one anybody would associate with an alien story (unless Seunghyun and Henry had been spilling the beans, in which case I was gonna have to do some good old-fashioned nerd bashing). So how did he know about me? And who was ‘us’?</p><p>“Just a description of the phenomena…” He was starting to sweat. “Sights, sounds, smells, anything?” Vividly I remembered the scent of roses on the road by the bridge; I stared even harder.</p><p>“Look, mister, who <em>are</em> you?!” He visibly flinched at my tone but didn’t reply. I decided I’d had enough cryptic shit ‘cos I really was late. “I’ve gotta go, okay?” Sticking my arm out I miraculously caught the attention of an empty taxi. Park looked as if he was dying to say something else; I yanked open the cab door and glared at him, and he wisely refrained. Out of the back window I could see him standing in the road, watching me as we drove away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Two days later we were back at the bookshop and I told Seunghyun (who’d been well paid for his latest gig and was crowing over finally ordering his video camera) about this irritating encounter. When I said I’d met a besuited weirdo who asked me strange questions about the so-called ‘event’, Seunghyun quit his half-hearted cataloguing of secondhand textbooks and gave me his full attention.</p><p>“He asked you about UFOs?” I nodded. “Well…what’d he look like?”</p><p>“I dunno; average. Averagely ugly, anyway. He seemed really…awkward. And he didn’t even <em>try</em> to explain how he knew about me.” Seunghyun pushed his specs against his handsome face. “You two haven’t been gossiping about me, right?!”</p><p>“Course not.”</p><p>“So he can’t have been a journalist.”</p><p>“Then did he seem, like, a government official or something?” he asked more eagerly.</p><p>“Er, no. And if he was, the government must be real embarrassed about it!”</p><p>“Hmm,” said Seunghyun in his deep rumble, as if to himself. “I guess they’d want to be inconspicuous. If it <em>was</em> them. Did he threaten you? Tell you to keep your mouth shut?”</p><p>“No.” It wasn’t as though I’d been planning to open it anyway, certainly not to humiliate myself in public by spouting nonsense about UFOs. I couldn’t explain why I’d felt so uncomfortable. “He was just…peculiar.”</p><p>“Well did he tell you <em>anything</em>?” This better not be another of Seunghyun’s phenomena – I wasn’t in the mood for any more KUFOS-mandated interviews. He was looking awfully interested.</p><p>“Only his name: Park Myungsoo.” I saw Seunghyun start in surprise. There was a pause; then he burst out laughing.</p><p>“Myung<em>soo</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah, what of it?” My idiot friend was cackling to himself; this went on for some time, so I made myself comfortable on the stepladder and glowered at him.</p><p>“Oh…poor Jiyong!” he managed once he’d (barely) pulled himself together. I wasn’t pleased with this turn of phrase: it was <em>my</em> job to feel sorry for <em>him</em>. I tapped my foot and silently demanded an explanation. “I thought for a minute this was gonna be something mysterious,” Seunghyun told me, snorting inelegantly to himself. “Oh, man, you’re killing me…”</p><p>“I will be in a minute!” He looked like he was about to pop off again. Fortunately Mr. Won materialized from around a bookshelf and gave his employee a more effective glare than I’d managed, accompanied by a teacherly ‘<em>shhhh</em>!’ Sufficiently chided, Seunghyun coughed and got back to work.</p><p>“Park Myungsoo’s a SARC member,” he said, gesturing for me to pass him the books to shelve. I slapped a heavy Economics volume into his hand.</p><p>“You know what I told you about these damn acronyms.”</p><p>“Sorry: Seoul Alien Research Committee.” I groaned, my encounter suddenly making sense. “They’re our rivals, I guess,” Seunghyun continued. “UFO groups can never seem to get along.” Big fat surprise there. “Myungsoo’s one of their most…uh, enthusiastic members.”</p><p>“You mean he’s their Henry.”</p><p>“Oh, no,” replied Seunghyun, leaping to his friend’s defense. “Myungsoo’s way less socially gifted.” He hardly needed to tell me that; I had evidence enough from the two minutes I’d spent talking to the man. “Thing is,” he went on, “every group wants to get the scoop: the big investigation, the big story – and they hate sharing the glory.”</p><p>“What glory!”</p><p>“It’s dumb, I know,” agreed Seunghyun, doing a U-turn on his attitude from the other day. “If we could just work together, with the other paranormal groups too, we might actually learn something <em>big</em>! I mean, you know my Unified Theory.” I nodded in a way calculated to discourage him from starting on <em>that</em> again.</p><p>“But how’d this guy hear about me?” I said, getting back on track with some relief: at least my encounter hadn’t been any worse – I could handle this type of nutter just fine. “Neither of us spoke to the papers!” Seunghyun’s pretty lips thinned.</p><p>“Someone in KUFOS must be gossiping.” I shrugged.</p><p>“You just said you <em>wanted</em> the groups to share information.” Honestly, he was as cliquey as the rest of them! I began to suspect that the ‘shady guys’ he and Henry had seen hanging around were members of the same club.</p><p>“Through official channels!” Seunghyun stacked the last book neatly and dusted his hands on the seat of his pants (the horror!). “Right, I’m gonna get to the bottom of this – I have to tell the guys we’ve got a <em>rat</em>.” I rolled my eyes and set one hand on his arm (any excuse), but couldn’t help grinning.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. <em>After</em> dinner. And you’re buying.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/9Kw8ysv.png">  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Almost all the paranormal cases the characters discuss in this fic are real (to the extent that people investigated them, anyway). The Point Pleasant/Mothman case will crop up again later and there are several books written about it; it's quite bonkers and fascinating. Anyone who's interested in this kind of topic just let me know, I can give you reading/documentary recs. It's going to get more complex as we go on :)</p><p>For everyone else, just reconcile yourself to many more such arguments between Seunghyun and Jiyong - you'll get some relationship development in between XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong has a weird day. It gets weirder.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wisely managed to recuse myself from the KUFOS Spygate issue by being so busy checking the finished samples for my collection and matching them with accessories that I didn’t have time to see Seunghyun for a week. It was all cleared up, he reported when we next met: after much (doubtless melodramatic) investigation and accusations, turned out one of the harmless old-man members had got drunk in his local on his birthday and spilled the whole thing to his buddy from his Army days – who happened to be Myungsoo’s uncle. No harm, no foul.</p>
<p>“So it’s back to the real investigation,” announced Seunghyun as we sat comfortably against our rock up on Seoraksan (I couldn’t resist when he invited me, as usual). “We’re trying to figure out how to talk to the cops about that ‘helicopter’. Like most young men he was antsy about approaching the Seoul police: the atmosphere was loaded and some members of the Fuzz were just waiting to pop off. “Got any good reporter contacts?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be stupid.” He smirked. “Though I can introduce you to as many pop stars and soccer players as you like.” Seunghyun was probably the only person I’d ever met not to be impressed with the scope of my social network.</p>
<p>“We’ll figure it out; we’ll ask Mr. Hong from the SGS for his contact, if we can get him to take us seriously.” Some hope: in my experience, old men’s faith in anyone under fifty having any kind of expertise is small. “Or maybe we can have Hyunjae charm it out of them!” He laughed self-consciously. I gave him a sour smile at that and squinted outward in the evening sunshine, knuckling my eyes.</p>
<p>“You okay?” asked Seunghyun; I glanced at him and saw him giving me a sharp look. I paused, then shrugged.</p>
<p>“My eyes have been kinda itchy lately.”</p>
<p>“Mine too,” he said thoughtfully, giving the new video camera an absent pat (ever since he lugged it up here and aimed it at the sky he hadn’t been able to quit touching it). “Since that night. It’s better than it was, though, right?” He peered at me and I gazed back with the usual pleasure staring at his face gave me; his eyes looked just as they always did, only today they had the glow of excitement he’d been carrying around ever since the ‘sighting’.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Maybe there was some kind of pollen on the riverbank we’re not used to.”</p>
<p>“They say…” Seunghyun began, then trailed off. He’d learned how receptive I tended to be to sentences beginning with those words. I rolled my eyes, but only a bit; the more I got to know him the more I lost the urge.</p>
<p>“All right, what do ‘they’ say?”</p>
<p>“People who’ve encountered certain types of craft tend to get conjunctivitis,” he said.</p>
<p>“Oh, for God’s sake.”</p>
<p>“There’ve been hundreds of documented cases!” Seunghyun insisted. I would’ve asked where? And by whom? But he already knew what I was thinking. “Honest,” he said. “This one actually comes from pretty reliable sources. It happened in Point Pleasant too.”</p>
<p>“You’re telling me I caught <em>pinkeye</em> off an alien?”</p>
<p>“No! Well…no.” He laughed, and I couldn’t resist a grudging smile; I felt too kindly towards this crackpot for my own good – but I told myself that every time we met and it didn’t seem to make me more sensible. “Only…it’s another hint, isn’t it?” he went on. “That something <em>did</em> happen – that it wasn’t just wishful thinking.”</p>
<p>“You’re the one who’s always saying these things are half subjective anyway,” I reminded him, reminding myself at the same time to get some eye drops and put an end to this nonsense. “I don’t know why you people even bother looking for proof! Psychedelic, hallucinatory…why even bring a camera? How much evidence can there be?”</p>
<p>“There’s always something,” said Seunghyun stubbornly, binoculars glued to his face. “And besides…” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level; I braced myself. “That night might not have been the end of it. CEs usually come with…echoes. We have to keep our eyes peeled for them.”</p>
<p>“Such as?”</p>
<p>“Weird coincidences, weird people showing up, weird dreams – it can all add up to the fact that something <em>otherworldly</em> happened.”</p>
<p>“Well.” I brightened. “If Park Myungsoo’s the strangest thing to emerge out of all this I think we’ve got off pretty lightly.” Seunghyun only sighed.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>I spoke too soon; should’ve known it. Almost as soon as we got off the mountain odd things started happening. Or at least I noticed they were happening. You know what, maybe they <em>weren’t</em> odd but had always been going on, and I’d just become aware of them ‘cos I was taking alternate routes to my work spots. I was trying to avoid the centre of town, especially public buildings; the atmosphere was simmering with resentment and indignation on the part of both the government and the rest of the country and it was making me stressed. So I found quiet roads, even borrowed my next-door ahjumma’s bicycle and rode it instead of taking the subway. It opened up bits of Seoul I had never seen before. Some of them were peaceful, some drab, and some downright weird.</p>
<p>It was small stuff – don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t encountering cryptids or ghosts on every corner. Just funny things: a piece of graffiti with a string of numbers that made up my birthdate, an old couple in full Joseon getup doing exercises along to a boombox in a secluded park; a triple rainbow. What did Seunghyun mean when he said ‘echoes’, anyway? None of this was paranormal, and my dreams continued as they always did: fashion, food and the odd sexy fantasy of having you-know-who in my bed.</p>
<p>I told Seunghyun during one of our rambling conversations about the kooky things I’d seen lately. He’d encountered some stuff too and we compared notes to see if any of it counted as ‘echoes’ (apparently not); but he didn’t seem to share my sense of surprise and mild wonder. That was partly ‘cos he was ticked off about the helicopter: Mr. Hong had spoken to his police friend, who’d asked around about a ‘copter being called out to the bridge collapse. Ever helpful, the cops’ reply was: ‘not sure’.</p>
<p>“Nil-nil on that score, I guess,” I commiserated (secretly happy to remain secure in the knowledge that I’d seen a perfectly terrestrial bit of police equipment). Seunghyun grunted. Aww, now he was discouraged. “But go back to these echoes,” I suggested, patting his knee through his apron (I spent almost as much time at the bookstore as he did these days, it was a good place to sit and write). “I swear this stuff isn’t normal!” And I gave him another list of bizarre sightings.</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you what it is, Ji,” he said after I called him on his blasé attitude to my report of what I was <em>sure</em> had been black swans on Seokchon Lake. Dami had seen them too and been equally amazed. “The encounter – whatever you think it was,” he added when I scoffed at him – “having something new happen to you, knowing that there’s at least the <em>possibility</em> it was supernatural, or paranormal or whatever…it’s opened your eyes. The world is full of peculiar stuff: tiny everyday wonders. I see them all the time. <em>You</em> just never noticed ‘em because you were always fixated on what was the most cool, stylish, <em>worthy</em>. Now you do – and it’s blowing your tiny mind.” He laughed, but it wasn’t at me.</p>
<p>“You really think so?” I asked. If so, I liked it: I wanted my daily grind to be full of anticipation; I <em>wanted</em> to be awed by the world. Seunghyun put down the book he was waving.</p>
<p>“You know some people think that’s why UFOs appear in the first place: to engage our curiosity, broaden our minds – make us see the universe in a new way.”</p>
<p>“Hmph.”</p>
<p>“Hasn’t talking about this stuff made you even a <em>little</em> bit deeper?” he said, with humour but also hope.</p>
<p>“Possibly.” It certainly felt as if it’d made me dumber. Seunghyun’s expression at that made him look even more lovely.</p>
<p>“Then it’s all worth it! Put on those designer specs, Ji, and see the world! And maybe when you do you’ll see the worlds beyond it, too.”</p>
<p>So I tried, and not only because I wanted to please him but ‘cos I wanted to feel how <em>he</em> felt: to walk through life with expectation, and dreams the size of the cosmos. And I did begin to enjoy it. However, it wasn’t long before all of us found we had quite enough excitement in our own back yard.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It was never going to be a quiet summer: my work and the ongoing ‘investigation’ had already scuppered that, and over the next month it seemed the whole of South Korea was determined to horn in on the action. In June the tension in the country rose to a turmoil – with Seoul roaring at its heart. There’d been political fracas going on for years between our militaristic government and the opposition, that was nothing new. Activists protested and the rest of us numbskulls went to work the long way round and got on with our lives. It had all changed, though, when the public found out (through a conscientious Catholic association) that the cops had tortured one of the protesting students to death while Seunghyun and I were spending peaceful nights in the mountains. And with that the city exploded.</p>
<p>“You’ve gotta come,” Seunghyun practically ordered me, his dark eyes flashing – for once without even the mention of UFOs. “It’s <em>important</em>.”</p>
<p>“But I’m supposed to-”</p>
<p>“No,” he interrupted eagerly. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. <em>This</em> matters, and if you don’t come you’ll regret it one day.” I gazed up at him; then I nodded.</p>
<p>On June 18, a sunny day, I joined a million other protesters in demanding freedom, democracy, all those things we figure ought to be natural nowadays. As I marched beside Seunghyun, Henry and his wife and half the KUFOS members on my other side (including Hyunjae, but I was willing to put my personal feelings aside for this), I felt my own indignation growing – <em>I</em> wanted to live free too! I wanted to love who I chose and not be punished for it, whether in military service (which I had <em>not</em> enjoyed) or my private life. I wanted the chance to choose leaders who might make that happen for me. It was terrifying, putting myself and my friends in the way of the police and the violence we’d heard about on the news (Minwoo had warned me against it – he always did think of safety first); but it was exhilarating at the same time. We did it again on June 26, and as we walked and shouted amid the vast crowd I saw Seunghyun glance at me with affection and a fierce approval that warmed me to my bones. I grinned back at him and we marched onward together.</p>
<p>Three days later the President caved; shortly after that we had a new democratic Constitution and the opposition figurehead Kim Daejung was released from house arrest. (I’d learned more about my country that month than in my entire school life: turned out the paranormal nuts weren’t only interested in outer space but had a nose for political conspiracy too.) Change swept the city in a wave. Our emotions that summer were so strong their combined intensity might have lit up Seoul: triumph, fury, relief, happiness – I was up and down, up and down, and between all that and my work I barely had time to think about Seunghyun’s ‘sighting’. I thought it’d be good for him, having something else to focus on. As you might expect, however, his true passions lay elsewhere, and he managed to cram in plenty of research between his modelling and civil disobedience.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was the national chaos, the protests and subsequent industrial strikes, that made everything turn weird again in July; or maybe all that was merely a backdrop. Either way, we were soon in peculiar territory once more; and the idea of echoes, as it were, came back to me.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay!” I yelled over the chatter of the five models and assorted supporting staff. “That’s the lot, thanks! You can get changed.” Nobody was paying attention and it was too hot to keep shouting, so I stood by the window fanning myself ‘til they wound down on their own. I didn’t mind: the shoot had gone nicely. It was for the capsule collection I was releasing in anticipation of my full line. If it went well I’d be able to do a proper runway show and the hip stores would all contract to carry my clothes; magazine ads, press calls, the works. I loved that stuff, I <em>lived</em> for it – the validation that I was doing something worth a damn with my life!</p>
<p>Right on cue, as if expressly to gratify me, someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to see a stranger with a reporter’s notepad and an eager expression. Neat! My (long-suffering) P.A. had mentioned that the brand-new <em>Elle</em> Hong Kong for some reason wanted to do a feature about my work, which I wasn’t gonna sniff at. And here he was, perfectly timed.</p>
<p>“Mr. Kwon?” said the young man in fluent Korean, and immediately I knew this was one shy boy. Not a local, that was for sure: I knew all my peers and none of them looked this…well, <em>this</em>. He was probably about thirty and had embraced a vintage style that wasn’t too popular at the time: 1960s, maybe, tall and skinny with a black suit and hat. The basic look was Elwood from <em>The Blues Brothers</em> but without the cool. Poor guy looked nothing like a fashion journalist. I preened secretly to myself for a moment: <em>take a good long gawk at me</em>! I thought with glee – he could use a few tips on how to make an impression.</p>
<p>“Uh-huh. You’re from the magazine, right?” My interviewer looked so nervous, completely missing the cue and neglecting to introduce himself or give me his card. Not that it mattered, I’d get it off my P.A. later. For the time being I took a perch in the windowsill and gave him an encouraging smile. Eventually he nodded.</p>
<p>“Shall we…do this privately?” he asked. I blinked: was he coming on to me?! Was that cute or just plain sad?</p>
<p>“Here’s fine.” He blanched for a second before fumbling a pen from his pocket and beginning the interview.</p>
<p>“What was the cause of…this theme?” Hmm. Not a bad question, but I was hardly about to start explaining my recent involvement with the world of dorkdom that was ufology. Instead I hedged and began rambling about <em>Star Wars</em> and <em>Alien</em> and the resurgence of science fiction, which was quite nerdy enough, thank you. I wasn’t sure how well he was keeping up; maybe my Korean was too fast? He was beginning to sweat and his pen trembled in his hand.</p>
<p>“Want me to slow down?” I offered. God help this boy if he ever tried to interview the real diva designers! They’d eat him alive.</p>
<p>“Please don’t. It is…very useful.” And on we went. Man, this guy was socially awkward! He was even worse than Myungsoo. I didn’t know how he’d ever become a reporter; I suspected he was more likely a lowly intern who’d had the job dumped on him. That pissed me off a bit ‘cos surely I, journalist and home-grown designer <em>du jour</em>, deserved at least to be interviewed by a professional. He asked me a few more questions in a stilted voice; gradually I began to feel a tiny bit sorry for him – I suspected a stutter or crippling anxiety (he’d fit right in at KUFOS).</p>
<p>“Don’t you wanna know more about the collection?” I encouraged him as gently as I could, given my mood; maybe a couple of pointers from a pro might help him back on track. He seemed to have gotten in the weeds, he’d been asking random questions about my life for five minutes: his article was gonna be all over the place. He didn’t reply at once, just made a weird-ass face, then scrabbled a small glass pill bottle out of his briefcase (so unfashionable, even with the American Retro look he seemed to be trying for). He shook the bottle straight into his mouth, dry-swallowing maybe ten pills. I waited, astonished. Not even Henry was this bad at interviewing! Then he coughed and began again.</p>
<p>“Do you think…these clothes came from space?” he asked shyly. What a weird way of phrasing it!</p>
<p>“In a sense,” I replied smoothly (showing him how it’s done). “If you mean they were inspired by our fascination with exploration, and science, and what lies beyond the boundaries of our own planet.” (Well done, Jiyong, good quotable answer!) He didn’t write it down so I gestured at his notebook, which he then remembered and scribbled in. I wanted them to print that one. Next:</p>
<p>“…Can you believe in aliens?” I looked at him sharply. God only knew how many times my normal friends had jokingly asked me that question (though never so awkwardly phrased) since I’d got involved with Seunghyun – but how would <em>he</em> know that?</p>
<p>“Do you by any chance know Choi Seunghyun?” I asked narrowly. Seunghyun did have a couple of friends tangentially connected to the fashion industry; maybe this was one of them, or worse still he could be from another rival ufology faction with another unmemorable title. Which would account for a lot of this conversation’s dorkiness. He perked up at that and for a couple of seconds made furious notes; I thought he’d tear through the page. Probably a yes, then. He looked up and for the first time met my eyes. When I looked at his it gave me a weird feeling ‘cos I couldn’t tell what colour they were. I dunno why that struck me, but it did.</p>
<p>“When you saw it,” he said creakily, “what did…the lights and roses mean to you?” I stared at him – I think I even jerked back: what was he saying to me? Did he mean what I thought he…? Yeah, everyone at KUFOS and SARC apparently knew what I’d seen the night of the bridge collapse; but I hadn’t spoken about that smell to <em>anyone</em>. Henry hadn’t reported it at the meeting, he said he wanted to sit on it ‘til he could figure out what it meant. So how <em>could</em> anyone know? Unable to stop myself, I opened my mouth to yell at the man, to demand he tell me what he was talking about and who the hell he was, to call someone else over and prove to myself that this guy was really <em>here</em> (and, if he was, to have him thrown out). As soon as I shaped the first syllable there was a loud bang and a pop of glass, and a collective shriek from everyone in the room: the ceiling light above us had shattered. I leapt back, staring up at it in silence.</p>
<p>“Mr. Kwon! Are you alright?!” An assistant rushed over and frantically began to brush fragments of light casing off me; I barely noticed her.</p>
<p>“Where’d he go?!” I exclaimed, looking round wildly for my strange interviewer. For a moment I thought he’d vanished into the air; it gave me chills. Then, craning my neck, I saw a flash of his hat atop his tall, lanky frame exiting the hall. I dashed over and yanked open the doors – he was gone. “Did you see that guy?” I demanded when my P.A. hustled up to me. “The one talking to me?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Kyungho, who worked for me during busy seasons and was an expert at putting up with my dramas. Behind him a couple of interns were busy with a dustpan and brush; the models had finally scarpered. I sighed with relief that I hadn’t just imagined that man; this was creepy enough already. A stupid thought, I know; but it had just seemed so…unnatural.</p>
<p>“You know who he was?”</p>
<p>“An interviewer? Don’t think I got his name.” I proceeded to throw a hissy fit quite out of proportion with my level of celebrity, informing Kyungho (whose raised eyebrows and calm nodding told me that even when I’m pissed I’m not a bit scary) that he should <em>never</em> let me be interviewed by anyone he hadn’t vetted first, and that random weirdos must <em>never</em> be allowed within three feet of my holy presence without me knowing who the goddamn hell they were.</p>
<p>“You want a cup of tea?” inquired my P.A. kindly, ignoring my rant. “No wonder you’re shaken, that light only just missed you.” What with the sighting and all I was getting pretty tired of talking about bizarre lights, though I knew Kyungho didn’t mean anything spooky by it; it just reminded me of what that strange person had asked. A shiver of discomfort washed over me: <em>roses</em>. But yelling at my employees wouldn’t solve anything, so I sagged and nodded at him.</p>
<p>“…Yeah. Cup of tea would be nice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>I didn’t tell Seunghyun and Henry about that odd encounter; not right away. A good night’s sleep reassured me I’d gotten a little dramatic: all it had been was a blown fuse coupled with another SARC (or similar acronym) member trying to get the drop on KUFOS by convincing me to talk. The thing with the roses was the only point that gave me an unnerving niggle, but no doubt that was Henry accidentally letting it slip to one of his so-called colleagues; I knew first-hand that he couldn’t stop talking. In short, I didn’t want to get them all hysterical by causing another Spygate. So I kept it to myself and the unsettling event got shuffled to the back of my mind. There was certainly enough oddity around for it to compete with.</p>
<p>As summer drew on I felt that all the weird and wonderful things a person could experience in a lifetime had crammed themselves into Seoul to surprise me on every street corner. Seunghyun was right: my eyes were open, and freaky ufologists aside I decided I liked it. I saw a beautiful woman looking at me as I got out of the subway in Myeongdong – not exactly a rarity ‘cos I’m cute as fuck, but this one had eyes like rainbows; contact lenses, I figured. Then a little person with a charity collection box singing a pre-Independence <em>arirang</em> as he walked past my apartment block with a cadre of other volunteer workers – I never found out what they were collecting for but he gave me a smile all the same when I threw some coins in his tin. Floating Chinese lanterns, or at least that’s what I thought they were, hovering in the soft evening above the <em>Kyunghyang</em> newspaper office when I stepped outside after delivering my editorial; I guessed some partygoers had lost hold of them. I didn’t think any of this counted as an ‘echo’ so I let it pass and simply enjoyed it – as I was enjoying life in Seunghyun’s company.</p>
<p>My long-ago interview with him had gone nowhere; I didn’t know where to publish it, or even how to put it in an article. I simply couldn’t find a way to write a fashion piece about Seunghyun that wouldn’t diminish him: there was no way you could describe the man properly without making him sound crazy, but there was <em>so much more</em> to him than that. I was coming to recognize it more strongly every day. So of course when the time came I asked him. There was no-one I’d rather have.</p>
<p>“You’re looking very thoughtful,” he said approvingly, dropping onto the couch beside me and setting out bags of chips and popcorn as if he was hosting a Youngbae-grade buffet. We were about to embark on a Hitchcock marathon (‘for my education’); I dare say there was plenty to be thoughtful about. But for a few minutes I wanted his mind off the movies.</p>
<p>“I <em>have</em> been thinking.” Seunghyun looked proud – man, he thought I was a dimwit! “I want to ask you a favour.”</p>
<p>“Anything,” he said without hesitation; that innate sweetness that always got to me.</p>
<p>“You haven’t heard it yet.”</p>
<p>“Go on, then.”</p>
<p>“Sooo…my new collection’s almost ready to drop,” I told him. The capsule release had gone well and the rest of the line was in production for the final samples.</p>
<p>“Good for you!” Seunghyun grinned at me. “What with the time it takes you to get ready in the morning it’s amazing you’re so productive.”</p>
<p>“Shut it. There’s an award I want to win!” He passed me a Pepsi without further teasing. “Anyhow, it’s not gonna be Gaultier scale or anything but there’ll be a magazine campaign and a small runway show. So…” Why was I so hesitant? Perhaps ‘cos I knew this wasn’t truly what he loved to do. Oh well, might as well bite the bullet. “You wanna model for me?” Seunghyun’s smile changed.</p>
<p>“Serious?”</p>
<p>“You’d get paid!” I said huffily. “And you’ll like the theme.”</p>
<p>“Course I’ll do it,” he said without pause, bouncing across to me. “Honestly, it’d be an honour. Why were you all nervous?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t!” I clicked my tongue at him but couldn’t help beaming; after all, it was Seunghyun who’d inspired the entire aesthetic. I wrestled my goofy face under control. “Just wondering if you were gonna terrorize my other models too bad with your stories.” He snorted. Still, I guess he knew me well enough by now to know when I was yanking his chain.</p>
<p>“Just a few Skunk Ape anecdotes, I was thinking.” He gave me a big-eyed, deadpan stare. I started laughing. We toasted each other with our sodas. “I’ll do you proud,” he assured me, and leaned forward to start the VCR. I regarded his extraordinary face bathed in the blue light of the TV screen, and once again felt the old useless clutch in my heart.</p>
<p>“I know you will,” I told him softly. It was then that I knew I could really trust him.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as she found out Seunghyun was going to be in the show Soojoo offered to model for me too. Not to say she wouldn’t have done it anyway but I think she wanted to keep an eye on me; or maybe she was a wee bit jealous of my new friendship. Suffice to say she did it out of disapproval, and I wasn’t about to complain: my lineup was gonna be absolutely top-class.</p>
<p>“You know I can’t afford supermodel prices,” I warned her at the top of my voice (we were in a swank new nightclub on its opening night). Soojoo made a ‘pfft’ sound at me, sequined minidress shimmering as she danced.</p>
<p>“I’ll do it for free!” I eyed her suspiciously. “You <em>are</em> my friend,” she reminded me. Of course; she didn’t always have an ulterior motive. “And I wanna see how you work with him.” Okay, scratch that. “If he’s good for you.”</p>
<p>“We’re not dating!”</p>
<p>“But you want to.” I opened my mouth. “Don’t lie to me, baby, if you didn’t like him this much you’d’ve paid attention to Bae and me when we told you to cut ties and run.”</p>
<p>“Soojoo, he’s <em>straight</em>.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, what happened with that chick he met? Did she run a mile like the others once she figured him out?” Damn, she didn’t miss a trick. I sidled away towards the bar; Soojoo followed me, drifting like an effortless cloud on her stilettos.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” I said, after she’d poked her face in mine and stared me down. Her expression took on an irritating cast of both censure and pity.</p>
<p>“Why? What’d you do?”</p>
<p>“<em>Me</em>?” Christ, she must think I was desperate. My subtle tactics to keep Seunghyun’s attention pointed my way rose up to nudge at my conscience; I slammed my cocktail and waved down the bartender for another. What would be better to tell her? I wondered – she was still glowering at me. “It wasn’t my fault,” I announced over the dulcet tones of Wham. “He just got…distracted.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? By what?” I raised my eyes and directed an innocent look at the ceiling.</p>
<p>“…A UFO.” Soojoo froze with a cocktail cherry between her lips; then she did an almost literal spit-take and burst out laughing.</p>
<p>“A…oh my God!” Abruptly she hugged me, spilling her Martini down my back and still cackling. “Oh…Jiyong, darling.” She started stroking my hair as if I was five years old (though at least she’d quit accusing me of cock-blocking Seunghyun). At a distance our group of model and stylist friends was eyeing us warily – Soojoo drunk was pretty volatile and they knew <em>I</em> wouldn’t be volunteering to take her home. “He’s mad, sweetheart,” she told me before casting her glass aside, cupping my face in both hands and tilting it up to meet her gaze. “Cuckoo.” Huh. She actually looked afraid for me. “I’m worried it’s contagious.”</p>
<p>“He’sh a good guy,” I assured her as she squished my face. She bit her lip, and I decided not to confess that the more weeks went by the less truly unbelievable I was finding some of his ideas. I was coming to accept there was some pretty peculiar stuff in the world, as my own experiences that summer were proving. But I didn’t like admitting that even to myself, never mind Soojoo.</p>
<p>“He’s gonna wind up doing something crazy.” She let go and looked at me. “You haven’t known him very long but we’ve always said so. And I’m scared you’ll get mixed up in it.” At that my exasperation receded a smidge: she did love me, she just didn’t understand him. I put both arms round her waist and gave her a conciliatory squeeze.</p>
<p>“He’s my friend. That’s all. As soon as things get too weird I’m done!” A lie: I’d told myself that every week, up to and past the bridge collapse, but not even the exploding light and the creepy/psychic ufologist were enough to convince me I didn’t need Seunghyun’s friendship.</p>
<p>“Promise!” she ordered.</p>
<p>“Uh-huh.”</p>
<p>“Besides,” Soojoo reminded me with a saucy look, “don’t forget the fox you’ve got waiting at home!”</p>
<p>“Duh. Minwoo’s not going anywhere,” I shouted comfortably. It was the one thing in this new weird world I could be sure of.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Yes, absolutely: Minwoo was a reliable prospect and a place to ground myself, even if he did flit off to Paris in Business class every other month. We had a symbiotic relationship – I tidied his place, he made me breakfast; he let me run design ideas past him, I let him bugger off to Europe at a moment’s notice. He gave me custom furnishings and good sex, while I gave him custom jackets and the same. Soojoo was right to remind me of what I had.</p>
<p>“Are you coming to my auditions?” I called over the noise of the hairdryer. Minwoo was in my kitchen making eggs benedict.</p>
<p>“Can’t! I have a meeting with a Laura Ashley rep.”</p>
<p>“Very suburban of you!” I shouted. I’d never been pissed when he couldn’t join me, especially ‘cos –</p>
<p>“But I’ll take you for dinner later!” I smiled and smoothed my newly-bleached hair down. Perfect; I’d bring eveningwear to work. Minwoo came in, examined me in the mirror, and kissed my temple. “When you’re done primping,” he informed me, “brunch is ready.”</p>
<p>“You can tell me about your designs.” I kissed him back and he toddled off. Smooth sailing, that was us. All the way.</p>
<p>It was during a lull in the audition for models that I got to thinking about this serenity. Seunghyun had turned up (even though he’d already been hired, the wally) babbling excitedly about a UFO sighting above a bridge in Kentucky that Henry had just found out about. He’d done his catwalk and test photos flawlessly and gone for a smoke break, telling me we had to meet tomorrow and hash it all out. I rolled my eyes but had to smile – his delight was infectious. Perhaps Soojoo was right on the contagion front, at least. I sat beaming in my chair while the runway director had a conflab with the photographer, and it struck me that it’d been a long, long time since I’d smiled like that for anyone else. And so: Minwoo.</p>
<p>I had to confess, my relationship with my long-time squeeze wasn’t quite up to the level at which he’d left it to trot off to Europe six months ago. Most likely it was the distance – absence makes the heart grow fonder and all, but maybe it had instead served to make us grow apart. Or perhaps… No, I knew where the problem lay: there was no conversation with Minwoo, intelligent and cultured though he was, in which I didn’t know what his opinion was gonna be; it almost always chimed with my own. We moved in the same fields, the same circles, and that brought us many advantages – a shared network of friends, interests in common, and a practical and casual attitude to our connection that allowed for our careers. It was a <em>good</em> relationship.</p>
<p>What it didn’t bring me was surprise, new knowledge, emotional growth. Minwoo always played it safe. He was like a stylish designer blazer: you could put it right on and it’d fit in comfortably anywhere. On the other hand…was Seunghyun. It wasn’t ‘til Minwoo returned and I was in a position to compare them that I realized how much my kooky friend stimulated me beyond the (admittedly stunning) physical attraction – yeah, and infuriated me and sometimes bored me to tears, but at least it was with bonkers <em>new</em> information and not the same old discussion about European fashion houses. My time with Seunghyun forced me to stretch myself: my mind, my patience, and my emotions; he made me feel things I had never felt before, and now I could admit it – I didn’t think I’d ever be tired of it. Seunghyun was a pair of Doc Martens: rubbed you like fucking hell for a few weeks, but once you got used to them they’d last you a lifetime. (And, much like Docs, Seunghyun was rarely suitable for formal occasions.)</p>
<p>On the other hand, Minwoo was <em>dependable</em>. And most of all he was into me. Seunghyun? I was sure by now he’d never think of me like that; and I’d come to the conclusion that our relationship was too important to me to risk it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So why, I asked myself as my lover and I snipped at each other that Saturday night, was I still comparing the two of them? We’d never argued before; this had to be something to do with it.</p>
<p>“Use the sense your mother gave you,” advised Minwoo, stacking each freshly washed piece of crockery in the drainer in a precise way that felt like a rebuke. “Those things are dangerous!” The ostensible cause of our disagreement was an underground party I wanted to go to in a derelict warehouse. One of the models I’d hired had told me about it; she was always ready with the best tips if you wanted to have a good time on the edge, and after my recent experience as a political dissident (well, kind of) I was feeling rebellious – not to mention slightly bored with our nights in. I’d already planned the perfect outfit, slick and androgynous. At this point it’d be a waste not to go.</p>
<p>“Live a little, Granddad!” Minwoo was only in his early forties but I figured that’d give him a sting.</p>
<p>“I’m not bailing you out when you get arrested,” he said calmly, rising above as always; so <em>mature</em>. I snatched a plate from the drainer and dried it vigorously before banging it down on the counter.</p>
<p>“Come with me if you’re so worried, keep me out of trouble.” He laughed and shook his head; when he wasn’t out at fancy gatherings Minwoo liked to stay in with very good wine and watch art films. “I can invite Seunghyun instead,” I suggested, casual-like. “He’s usually up for anything.” If he wasn’t watching the skies, anyway (and if he was he’d have invited me – he knew I couldn’t say no).</p>
<p>“Whatever you like.” Minwoo rinsed the washing-up bowl, then went to the fridge and retrieved one of the bottles he’d brought. “And since you’ll be out of the house you won’t mind me inviting that gallery assistant over to help me drink this.” Oh yeah: the six-foot-tall hunk my man had been describing ever since he went to the Kim Whanki exhibition yesterday. I curled my lip: while the two of us had never bothered with monogamy we didn’t usual <em>tell</em> each other who we were planning to fuck. And he certainly didn’t do it in my bloody flat!</p>
<p>“There’re condoms on the bedside table,” I said icily. And, in a snide addition: “One oughta be plenty for you, right?” Minwoo didn’t deign to reply, merely gave me a pitying look and sailed out of the kitchen. I almost stamped my foot in frustration. Goddammit, I was going out to my illegal dance spot, and that so-grown-up, reasonable git could do whatever he –</p>
<p>My inner monologue was cut short as a faint melodic sound reached my ears. I looked down to see one of the juice glasses, which I’d just dried and put down, begin to tremble. Without warning a spike of déjà vu skewered me, the feeling of an impending earthquake I’d had right before the bridge collapse – only now the ground was still and this glass <em>alone</em> was shaking. I watched, open-mouthed and fascinated, and before I could cry out or even gasp it flew off the worktop and smashed as it hit the tiled floor. The crash rang in my ears insistently, like an echo, while I simply stared. The hair on my arms was standing on end as if I’d been electrified.</p>
<p>Through the phantom sounds of glass I heard Minwoo’s footsteps stop, turn, and pad back.</p>
<p>“Jesus, you don’t have to be such a drama queen about it,” he said drily, sticking his head round the door. I gaped at him in silence. “All right!” he relented. “I won’t invite him round.”</p>
<p>“I…” Minwoo shot me an odd glance.</p>
<p>“You okay, sweetheart? You’re white as a rice-cake.” As I attempted to process what the fuck I’d just witnessed I began to tremble like the glass itself. I hugged my arms to my sides so he wouldn’t notice; was what I’d just seen <em>real</em>? Coupled with the light-smashing incident from before I had to assume it was – either that or I was going stark raving mad, just as Soojoo had warned. Scenes from movies about haunted houses and telekinetic kids paraded before my eyes. Holy fuck. This was something; it <em>had</em> to be. Minwoo approached me, now looking concerned, and I leaned against him weakly.</p>
<p>“I…I guess I’ll stay in after all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Having Minwoo’s solid presence in my bed that night was a reassurance, his arms around me a prosaic reminder that this kind of thing didn’t <em>happen</em>. I told him I felt under the weather; he was of course happy and approving that I’d decided against my risky quest for fun. What I didn’t tell him was that I’d seen a perfectly stationary glass come to life and throw itself to the floor. But I <em>would</em> have to tell Seunghyun. Who else would believe me?</p>
<p>As if my frightened thoughts had ridden the airwaves to reach him all the way across town, in the small hours of the morning my bedside phone rang. I’d been dozing uneasily and the sound jerked me awake with a heave of breath. When I realized who it was I exhaled shakily.</p>
<p>“What is it?” I whispered, not wanting to wake Minwoo. “Did you have another sighting or something?” Seunghyun didn’t usually call me in the middle of the night but I wouldn’t put it past him if he had a juicy bit of information; he was a very optimistic person when it came to assuming I’d wanna hear about that stuff <em>immediately</em>.</p>
<p>“No. No, not really.” Some silence. “I fancied a bit of a chat.” At this time of night?</p>
<p>“Seunghyun. Come on.” Another pause.</p>
<p>“…I had a bad dream, that’s all,” said Seunghyun. I always loved the sound of his voice on the telephone but right now it seemed kind of strained. How did I sound to him? I wondered. Two unnerving events in one evening. Did that mean something?</p>
<p>“What about?” I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed, trapping the receiver between my ear and shoulder as I reached for my glass of water.</p>
<p>“It was…” Seunghyun began before trailing off. “No, it’s not <em>what</em> it was, it was nothing in particular.” Another beat, in which I caught his hoarse indrawn breath. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” I took hold of the receiver again, pressing it tight to my ear and closing my eyes. God, the things it did to me, hearing him say that…</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” I reassured him, unable to help my smile; I felt like an idiot teenager again, and for a moment I forgot my own fear: the urge to comfort him was instinctual. “Happens to the best of us. If you ever wanna tell me stuff like that it’s fine. Honestly.” After all, he’d told me so much other ridiculous shit that a rambling description of a nightmare was hardly going to make me think less of him.</p>
<p>“Just talk to me ‘til you get sleepy.”</p>
<p>“I will,” I promised softly. And I did, with Minwoo snoring on beside me: mundane things, comical things. Nothing about what had happened in my kitchen; I couldn’t, not with him like this. It would keep ‘til tomorrow. His mumbles got sleepier and sleepier, and at last faded into quiet breathing. I put the phone down, my disbelief and shock replaced by a warm glow; and thanks to him I finally slept too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/2LgQe57.png">  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>June 1987 was known as the June Struggle in South Korea, with mass protests for democracy. At least two university students died at the hands of the police, uniting the public successfully. Over one and a half million people took part in the marches, leading to strengthening of human rights, forming of labour unions, and so on and etc. Basically, Jiyong and Seunghyun are living through a particularly turbulent year (which may or may not impact their more spooky experiences!).</p>
<p>Wow, turns out there are a lot of people interested in the paranormal/supernatural here! If you have any good stories about local ghosts, cryptids, etc., please let me know - I love hearing stories from different parts of the world! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Seunghyun finds out a thing or two about Jiyong...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…So what d’you think about the glass? And the rest of it?” I asked anxiously from my perch on the stepladder. Seunghyun had been on a photoshoot for some catalogue all morning but invited me to hang out at the bookstore after lunch. I was glad: I wanted his reassurance, and seeing the state of him I hoped I could offer some cheering-up too. He looked tired, the makeup team must’ve had a hell of a time with him; the bags under his eyes worried me – whatever his nightmare had been, it was obviously bad. He shelved an atlas pensively.</p><p>“Tell me about the interviewer again.” I did so, describing the oddness of his conversation, his weird clothing and that business with the pill bottle as best I could. Occasionally my friend’s eyes flashed. For once, however, he appeared to be aiming for some restraint, as if this was too important for a hasty opinion.</p><p>“You’ve got a theory, haven’t you,” I surmised. Seunghyun gave a clipped chuckle.</p><p>“Always. Only…it’s the idea of <em>you</em> seeing something that’s throwing me – that you’re even feeling uneasy enough to concede something paranormal might be going on.”</p><p>“I never said <em>that</em>.”</p><p>“I always thought it’d be me who sees the good stuff.”</p><p>“What about your nightmare?” Seunghyun’s lovely face went a shade paler than its usual healthy gold; he pursed his lips, then visibly dismissed it.</p><p>“It was just a dream. For now. If I start seeing other phenomena it might mean something.” In spite of his level tone there was no hiding his discomfort. I reached out and touched his wrist.</p><p>“You can tell me if you want. Honestly, it won’t freak me out.” He shook his head.</p><p>“I don’t wanna interfere with<em> your</em> echoes.” I sensed him cheer up a bit. “You have to document <em>everything</em>, as soon as it happens: what you saw, heard, felt, smelt. Maybe there’ll be some pattern…”</p><p>“Stuff breaking,” I concluded. “That’s the only thing I can think of so far.” Well, that and SARC dimwits accosting me, but Seunghyun promised he’d talk to Henry and get to the bottom of this latest ‘interviewer’. “The ceiling light smashing by itself for no reason – and then…” I felt a tremor of the incredulity I’d experienced last night. “…<em>That</em>. I swear, Seunghyun, it <em>picked itself up</em> from the middle of the counter and smashed in mid-air!” My ufologist put his armful of books down and turned to me.</p><p>“I believe you!” The sensation of relief upon hearing that surprised me with its intensity; I imagined attempting to convince my other friends and relatives of what I’d seen. No, that’d never work; this was the only person I could tell. “Has anything like that ever happened around you before?”</p><p>“No!” I paused. “Well…I don’t think it’s much to the point, but the other week I was having dinner with Youngbae – my musician friend, you saw him at the Givenchy show, remember? – and a glass broke at the table next to ours. I figured it was just drunk girls but they all swore up and down they didn’t do it.” Seunghyun nodded slowly.</p><p>“What mood were you in before it happened?” Mood? I thought back to what we’d been talking about that night. Oh. Right. We’d been having an argument – about Seunghyun.</p><p>“Mildly pissed,” I hazarded.</p><p>“And the other times?”</p><p>“Freaked out. Angry.”</p><p>“Hah,” said Seunghyun quiet and Henry-like under his breath. I leaned against the dusty bookshelf (you could tell I was really worried by this criminal disregard for my clothes) and waited, then nudged him with my foot when nothing more was forthcoming.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“…They say,” Seunghyun began (I gave him an eye-roll out of habit). “At least, there’s some evidence to suggest that UFO flaps and various types of sighting can manifest their echoes – associated phenomena – in poltergeist activity.” That was not a word I needed to be hearing right now!</p><p>“You saying I’m <em>haunted</em>?”</p><p>“Not exactly.”</p><p>“Is my head gonna spin round?!” For some reason Seunghyun looked a lot perkier than he had five minutes ago; no doubt his research interests had outstripped the fog of his bad dream.</p><p>“No,” he said, and laughed. “Poltergeist activity is just a useful name for a kind of<em> energy</em>. It usually turns up when a person experiences big life changes – adolescence, for one – but <em>also</em> for UFO witnesses or abductees. And you <em>were</em> a witness to something, no matter what you say! Plus you were feeling angry every time one of those things smashed.” He smiled at my incredulous stare. “The question is: does this energy come from inside <em>you</em>, or is it a residual hangover from having interdimensional entities in the vicinity?”</p><p>“If you tell me an alien gave me ‘special powers’ I’m gonna thump you,” I warned him.</p><p>“Go on, then,” Seunghyun challenged me with ill-advised cheer, “<em>you</em> explain it.” I did thump him then, quite hard in the arm. But I didn’t answer him – because I couldn’t.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I was somewhat nervous after the glass-smashing incident as to whether I oughta have Minwoo stay at mine or not. If we could avoid snipping at each other he’d probably be a comfort; no-one had their feet on the ground like him. If we couldn’t… Not that I believed anything Seunghyun had said! But some small and credulous spot in my gut was scared that if I got mad it might happen again. With the stress of my upcoming show I didn’t think I was in any headspace to handle the concept of telekinetic (or whatever) powers.</p><p>In the end Minwoo did hang around, and he was nice to me. To be fair to him he usually was, when I didn’t poke at him. He made me feel safe. He told me I was highly strung ‘cos of the collection, and he was gonna look after me until it was all wrapped up with success. There was mention of a vacation to Guam, and the thought cheered me; we’d never been on holiday together before. Perhaps a little time away from Seunghyun and his associated baggage wouldn’t be a bad idea after all. Just ‘til I went back to normal.</p><p>It was a Sunday morning two weeks before my runway show and we were still in bed when the doorbell rang. I grunted, wiped out from pulling a late night to finish an article about sneakers, so Minwoo grudgingly got his ass out of bed and went to answer it.</p><p>“Ji!” I heard him call, sounding wide awake all of a sudden, “there’s a hot guy to see you!” Crap – right, Seunghyun had no concept of appropriate visiting hours. I groaned into my pillow, but I couldn’t very well leave him there with Minwoo when they’d never laid eyes on each other before. He didn’t even know I had someone staying with me! I hauled myself up sharpish.</p><p>When I got to the door I found Seunghyun standing in front of it looking both surprised and virtually bursting with news he was now having to repress, having been unexpectedly confronted with Minwoo.</p><p>“Hey,” I greeted him, rubbing my eyes. “Didn’t know you were coming.” Of course he hadn’t waited to let me buzz him into the building (or given me time to make myself presentable). Seunghyun was practically bouncing up and down with either excitement or anxiety, but the presence of a normal person (one of Minwoo’s greatest charms) was evidently cramping his style. Minwoo in turn was regarding Seunghyun’s outrageous beauty with something close to shock; I’d never told him <em>exactly</em> how attractive a friend I’d made. Not that he was the type to get jealous, but…you know what I mean. Seunghyun coughed.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry, I just…er.” He looked so awkward I wanted to laugh.</p><p>“Minwoo, this is Choi Seunghyun,” I said, putting him out of his misery. Minwoo, if anything, seemed more astonished; this was to be expected ‘cos I’d pretty much characterized Seunghyun as ‘a fun bookish nerd who does a bit of modelling’, and this godly personage must be blowing his mind. I made a note to keep my eye on Minwoo – he might be opportunistic enough to take a crack at Seunghyun himself. “Seunghyun, let me introduce Kim Minwoo. He’s my, um, friend.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Seunghyun casually. Then, as I watched, I saw him put this together with Minwoo’s and my pyjamas and bedhead, possibly adding in my constant lack of a girlfriend (in spite of my extraordinary good looks, hah). I gulped as his eyes widened – damn. He’d finally, <em>finally</em> got it, the one thing I’d been keeping from him this entire time, and all I could do now was pray to God or the aliens or whoever that this wasn’t the end of us.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Minwoo said, being well-trained socially even if Seunghyun and I were struck dumb. Seunghyun looked like he wanted to say ‘oh!’ again. Instead he gave Minwoo a bow, and me a weak smile. I practically sagged against the doorframe in relief – he wasn’t gonna make a scene.</p><p>“Same to you. Look, er…sorry I woke you guys up, I know it’s early.” I could see he was restraining himself; this easy politeness wasn’t him at all. The question was whether he was trying not to yell in Minwoo’s face about our UFO issue or about the sudden revelation that I was into screwing guys. I shot him an encouraging glance, silently begging him to be okay with this. “I’ve got some stuff I wanna run by you before the next meeting,” Seunghyun told me cryptically, as if we were members of a book club. “How about we get together at the café when you’re dressed?” He knew how long <em>that</em> would take.</p><p>“Don’t be daft,” I said, and mustering my courage reached out to take his wrist. “Come on in, we can talk in my office.” Seunghyun hesitated, then nodded.</p><p>“I’ll make breakfast,” offered Minwoo graciously, though I could tell he wanted to ogle Seunghyun a bit longer (hopefully to figure out his deal but just as likely so he could put the moves on him later). I gave him a pointed look; he grinned behind his moustache and went off to the kitchen.</p><p>“So…” I began as I shut the office door behind us. My turn to be awkward. “Everything okay?” If he had anything to say about these newly-discovered (for him) leanings of mine, now would be the time. Seunghyun beckoned me to my swivel chair (he’d plonked himself down on the footstool) before wheeling himself closer and looking up at me with all the earnestness of a man who’s about to embark on a heart-to-heart. I gulped. Then I spotted the manic gleam in his huge eyes and found myself beaming, ‘cos I <em>knew</em> that look – and it meant he didn’t care. He didn’t <em>care</em> what I was! What he cared about was –</p><p>“One of Mr. Hong’s police friends contacted him again,” he exclaimed in a rush, and the next moment he’d taken my hand in both his own –he didn’t wanna keep his distance from me, didn’t think I was dirty! I clutched at his bigger hand reflexively, and his face lit up as he said: “<em>There was no helicopter that night</em>.”</p><p>“…Huh?”</p><p>“They did some checking,” went on Seunghyun in a rush, “and there was no air support called to the scene from police or military ‘til <em>after</em> the divers showed up!” That didn’t make sense.</p><p>“What about press?” I demanded. “You know, the ‘eye in the sky’?” Seunghyun was still grasping my hand; he squeezed in a painful exhibition of enthusiasm but let go when I winced.</p><p>“Sorry. Nope, they checked that too – first aerial media coverage was hours later.” He was glowing, I could almost physically see it, the light of his conviction radiating through his skin. As you might imagine, I didn’t know quite what to do with this information so I settled for blinking at him in silence. Seunghyun gazed up at me with an almost intoxicated look (alas, I knew it wasn’t aimed at my charming early-morning self). “Jiyong!” How did he want me to respond?</p><p>“Then if it wasn’t a helicopter,” I said slowly, not having had time to think this through and still stunned by his casual acceptance of the real me, “…what <em>was</em> it?”</p><p>Seunghyun gave me a glorious smile, and before either of us could say anything further Minwoo called us to breakfast.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I wasn’t even half done processing what Seunghyun had told me before the weird goings-on in my vicinity decided to dial themselves up several notches. Bewildered and with no idea what else to do I obeyed Seunghyun’s instructions and began logging everything in a journal. It didn’t seem to be helping. The following week brought no more so-called poltergeist activity (unless you counted my favourite socks and a draft review for a clothing store mysteriously getting lost, but that kind of thing tended to happen in the run-up to big events); what it <em>did</em> bring was…nothing. Only the form the ‘nothing’ took made me more uneasy than I’d been since this whole thing began.</p><p>“Phone!” yelled Minwoo on his way out the door, as if I was deaf. I got my ass out of the bathroom and ran dripping into the office before my answering machine cut in, ‘cos it was likely to be Kyungho or someone else calling about the show. But when I picked up the receiver there was no-one there – not even a pervert heavy breather. I put it down and thought nothing of it. I’d have forgotten it completely if it hadn’t happened five more times that week, the last ending with a series of static beeps like the line was about to go down. The sound made my head ring and I became almost nauseous – this was even worse than the unnerving silence. I didn’t know who was fucking with me but I didn’t like it. And there was nothing I could do but write it down.</p><p>Later in the week we had the main photoshoot for my ad campaign, some of it in a studio and some on location outside the monolithic Kyungdong Presbyterian Church. I gave Seunghyun a summary of my notes (he was looking stunning in silver, neon and gunmetal grey) and he oohed and aahed over whatever deep significance he read in my log of prank calls but claimed he had no conclusion to make. We did his photos first (he had a bookshop shift and I wanted to keep old Mr. Won sweet so he’d let me hang out there). After he’d gone I was less distracted – so much beauty in which I had a personal interest didn’t make me very productive on the shoot. Perhaps his leaving was why I was so sensitive to the change in mood.</p><p>There are loads of people on an outside shoot: photographer, photographic assistants, Wardrobe, makeup, hair, models, copy writers, general hangers-on and interested passersby. It was barely-controlled chaos and I was used to it. Today, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone behind me. I’d keep turning, thinking it was a staff member or maybe even a young fashion fan who recognized me from a magazine; but there was never anyone there.</p><p>“Was someone waiting to talk to me?” I asked Kyungho.</p><p>“Er, no.” My P.A. was busy liaising with the photographer about suitable backdrops for the next shot; he gave me a harassed glance. And he was right: to be honest, the designer is pretty superfluous at a photo session once the key look has been decided. It was up to the artists to make my clothes come alive and everyone was too busy to pay attention to me. So why did I have the constant sensation of eyes on my back? This and the silent phone calls were the kind of ‘nothing’ that got to me. By the end of the day I was exhausted and twitchy as hell. I wrote it down as usual and went right to bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Jeez,” said Chaerin, my trainer, as they gave me my weekly sports massage a few days later (not that I was wearing myself to the bone in the gym, I just like pampering). “What happened to your shoulders?!”</p><p>“What?” I demanded, alarmed.</p><p>“You’re incredibly stiff,” the masseur told me. “Like you’ve been holding them hunched up and rigid for days. Can’t you feel it?”</p><p>“No.” What I <em>could</em> feel were the invisible eyes on me.</p><p>“That’s what you get for missing sessions!” said Chaerin, whose distinct dictator tendencies were the only thing that kept my exercise regime on track – I’d much rather be lounging around a chic café. I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t laziness making my body curl up and try to protect itself. It was that it knew what my mind still couldn’t accept: that there was something truly unnatural going on.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the midst of all this I was summoned home for the weekend to celebrate my mum’s birthday. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the female members of my family, and within their limited knowledge of me they loved me back. It was just bad timing. Still, I wasn’t the kind of guy to disappoint my own mother (one more reason why I was still in the closet); so I gave Minwoo a farewell shag, gave Seunghyun my mum’s number in case of emergencies, and took myself off to Hannam.</p><p>We had the party on Friday night at an upmarket sushi restaurant. Between entertaining my mum’s friends, various aunts, uncles and cousins, and the constant grilling about when I was gonna bring a girlfriend home (some of you have been there, I’m sure, you know how it feels), I had no other recourse than to drink ‘til I lost my hearing. Bad idea: all it got me was a scolding. Still, Mum cheered up when I gave her the luxurious and beautiful throw rugs I’d wrapped (props to Minwoo for sourcing them). By the time we left the restaurant I was too hammered to notice any supernatural stares or freaky feelings, and I went to bed in comfortable oblivion.</p><p>You can imagine the mood I was in the next morning, especially when my mother saw fit to wake me and Dami at nine to ask if we wanted anything from the shops. This was a clear ploy to leave the house so us dutiful children could make her a birthday lunch (she’s a pro at the subtle but insistent hint), and I had no choice but to fall out of bed and stumble to the kitchen. Dami (who’d matched me drink for drink) was still cursing in her room. I put the kettle on and located the coffee – but water first, my head was pounding. Mum called to me with some pedantic instruction from the other room and I groaned to myself. As I absently opened the top cabinet a glass flew out and smashed in midair. For a long second I stared at it, mouth open in my (now standard) dumb expression of disbelief: not <em>again</em>.</p><p>“Jiyong? What happened?!” yelled my mum.</p><p>“Nothing! Just…fumbled a glass!” I replied, immediately rummaging in the cupboard for a dustpan before someone’s bare feet got hurt. By rights I should’ve been having a major freak-out – just how many times was this going to happen?! But all I could think through my pounding headache was that my hangover must <em>really</em> be a doozy if it could prompt poltergeist shenanigans. The crash brought my family in; I got another telling-off before my mum left to spend the morning pampering herself. Dami and I somehow powered through our pain and prepared lunch (with more wine – hair of the dog and all). We even made a cake. By the afternoon I was almost human again, and the rest of Saturday passed without any more danger to the glassware.</p><p>On Sunday we went to church. That’s a big thing for my mother and it’s easier for me just to be a good boy and go. I snoozed through the service, waking up in time for the hymns with the aid of Dami pinching me. It would probably have been better for me to actually pay attention for once, given that unearthly stuff seemed to be trying to elbow its way into my day-to-day and any spiritual information might be handy. But man…church is so <em>early</em>.</p><p>Dami and Mum were in the garden after lunch, debating whether to install a water feature. I’d decided the sun was too fierce for my delicate self and was watching a repeat of <em>Foundation of the Kingdom</em> on the box TV. I was on the verge of sleep when the newly-installed doorbell rang (it played some corny tune, my mother loved it).</p><p>“I got it!” I yelled, and shuffled towards the door, rubbing my eyes and kicking off my slippers to step down into the hyeon gwan. “Hello?” The man outside turned, and as he came into view something made me twitch. “…Hello?” I said again.</p><p>“Kwon Jiyong?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah.” I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me ‘til later that he shouldn’t have known I’d be there; it wasn’t like I lived there. It seemed natural at the time. Perhaps I was distracted by how unusual he looked and the immediate annoyance I felt – how often were UFO obsessives gonna accost me?! “Can I help you?” I said (respecting my elders like a good boy). He was middle-aged, a typical ajusshi in a typical salaryman suit. It didn’t fit very well; you know the type. He was only slightly taller than me but gaunt as if he’d been ill, which would explain the suit. His skin was sickly white and his lips were very red.</p><p>“I am Moon Changwoo,” he introduced himself. “I work for the National Flight Anomalies Council.” I’d never heard of such a thing; I was sure Seunghyun would have an acronym for it, though, goddammit. More to the point, what the hell was he doing here? My mind flashed back to the last peculiar guy who’d accosted me and I could feel my shoulders stiffening all over again. “May I speak with you?” What was it about his voice that I found off? Maybe just an unfamiliar accent; I couldn’t place the region. Come to think of it, he didn’t quite look Korean. Or perhaps I was still unsettled by yesterday’s glass event.</p><p>“You got any ID?” I asked suspiciously. I had to start thinking smart: evidence, evidence (Christ, maybe I <em>was</em> gonna end up joining KUFOS for real). Moon fumbled in his jacket pocket for so long you’d think he’d never used it before. Eventually he produced a square piece of card; it wasn’t regular business card dimensions, but there was his name, ‘Moon Changhoon’, and the title of the agency. I wondered if this was really an official council, or if it was one of the many UFO factions with which KUFOS was currently warring. “What is it you want?”</p><p>“Do you know Choi…Seunghyun?” he said, pausing as if to remember the name. He looked stressed: removing his hat he smoothed the sparse strands of hair across the top of his head. I felt my eyebrows draw down.</p><p>“…Yeah?”</p><p>“Would you tell me about him?”</p><p>“Why?” I demanded. If Seunghyun was on some other nerd’s shit-list I wasn’t about to feed into their feud; I felt protective.</p><p>“We received information: he hass dangerous thoughts.”</p><p>“What d’you mean?!” This Moon…Changsoo’s face didn’t change, but he started sweating and when he next spoke his intonation had turned even more foreign.</p><p>“Will you tell us his intentions?”</p><p>“I’m not telling you anything!” The investigator looked like he was ready to collapse: he swayed forward and with one hand grabbed the metal doorframe to steady himself.</p><p>“…Many thhings will go wrong if you don’t.”</p><p>“No!” He went even paler and swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand; Jesus, was I gonna have to call an ambulance for this asshole? His hand came away and I gasped: the back of it was red, was he bleeding?! Then I saw the colour was smudged across his mouth – his mouth, not his lips. He <em>had none</em>: it looked like he’d <em>drawn</em> them on with lipstick or crayon around the hole in his face. I recoiled, my stomach suddenly squirling with revulsion. I think I might have cried out if just at that moment my sister hadn’t called for me.</p><p>“Ji, who is it?” I took one more look at the man (was that what he was? Really?) and found him staring back at me fixedly.</p><p>“Tell him…do not tallk,” he said, and it sounded like a warning. Talk about what? And to whom?!</p><p>“No-one!!” I yelled in his face; he barely managed to remove his fingers before I slammed the front door on him. I leaned against it, all the breath leaving me in a whoosh; I was too tense to tremble. Dami called me again and I forced myself to suck in a gasp of air. When I could finally move I looked down at the card still in my hand; it hadn’t magically turned blank or anything. But neither was it a business card: it was one of those magnetic stickers you put on the fridge, advertising a local electrician. It was illustrated incongruously with a full moon, a tiny black dot crossing its surface; I suspected that if I used a magnifying glace I’d see it was a spacecraft. I gaped at it for a minute, my fingers feeling prickly and unclean. Then I stuffed it in my pocket and went to check on my family.</p><p>“Who was that?” inquired Mum. “Someone for me?”</p><p>“Uh…just a salesman.” She nodded and removed her gardening gloves.</p><p>“We’ve had a few round this way lately. Not exactly persuasive, I must admit.” I pricked up my ears, still quivering internally at the memory of the red, lipless gap in his face.</p><p>“How’s that?”</p><p>“Oh, couldn’t tell us about the product, didn’t have samples, that kind of thing. And they kept asking for ‘the man of the house’. As if this was the Fifties!” After the divorce my mother saw small need for a man around to get things done. But her description shook me in a way it wouldn’t have if that encounter hadn’t just happened: that was no government official, no ufologist, no salesman. And whatever it was had scared me rigid.</p><p>It had all been so weird that when I woke up Monday morning I half wondered if I’d dreamt it; if it wasn’t for that ‘card’ still in my pocket I think I’d have tried to tell myself he hadn’t actually been there. It wasn’t ‘til I was leaving to head home that I noticed the strangest thing of all. When I opened the front door I could still see the spot where Moon Whoever had gripped the frame: there, in the metal, was a set of finger marks sunk a quarter-inch deep. I felt myself turn white; I bit my tongue and pulled the door to quickly, hiding them from view, but the sight had already burned itself into my consciousness. I was too scared to ask Dami and my mum if they could see it. No, there was only one person I could talk to right now, and I would finally admit to him that we had to<em> do</em> something – that this had gone far enough.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When I told Seunghyun (as soon as I humanly could, at the bookstore) he blanched and asked very seriously if I was okay. It was sweet to be immediately believed, even though as a ‘researcher’ he was meant to be more objective. The description seemed to rouse some memory in him, something not altogether pleasant. When I asked him he said it came from his dreams, but before he could explain further a customer called for him. While I was waiting I lounged in the doorway (it was hot as hell inside, the only fan was in Mr. Won’s room) and pensively watched the street: just heat, wavering heat. My eye was caught by a small procession of people in matching tshirts; charity workers, I thought, noticing their collection tins. At the front of the line was – I stood up straight – was that same little person I’d seen singing outside my building. It had to be him, how many dwarves did charity work? As if he could feel me watching he looked across the street at me, and distant though he was I swear I saw him wink. Then they disappeared around the corner.</p><p>“You okay?” came Seunghyun’s voice from behind me; he placed his hand on my shoulder and I stepped aside to let the customer exit. “You were miles away.”</p><p>“…This is turning into one surreal week,” I said. The sight of the dwarf had brought back the dreamlike state I’d felt earlier that spring, when stuff had been kooky without direct interference in my life. But if it was still a dream it was a darker one, and when Seunghyun announced firmly:</p><p>“This has gone too far not to make it official! These are <em>echoes</em>, Ji, I know it – we need to do a proper investigation,” I believed him. “If we can prove a link or even hypothesize one between the bridge UFO and these new phenomena we’ll have something <em>big</em>.”</p><p>“Are you gonna be able to make them go away?” That was all I was interested in. Seunghyun’s big eyes darkened, and I guessed there were some things <em>he’d</em> like to be rid of too.</p><p>“That’s what we’re going to find out.” I looked up at him.</p><p>“Okay, then. I don’t like it.” He gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “But I don’t see where else we can turn.”</p><p>“When it comes to tackling creepy phenomena it’s either this or the Church,” Seunghyun agreed. At his expression I knew we shared mutual opinions on <em>that</em>.</p><p>“Ugh. What a choice.”</p><p>“Let Henry interview you again,” he requested seriously. I wasn’t too freaked out to roll my eyes: the git, he knew I had no options. “He never gets to do it, the Korean subjects think he’s too foreign and loud and it throws off our data.”</p><p>“They’re not wrong!”</p><p>“But he knows more about this kind of stuff than any of us.” He set his hand over mine; did he know what effect that had on me? “We both want to get to the bottom of this, don’t we?”</p><p>“Jesus, all right.” I knew a bit about post-CE investigations now, however, and there was one thing we had to get straight in advance. “But if he tries to take any ‘samples’ from me I’m gonna stick his tweezers where the sun doesn’t shine!”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“All right!” said Henry, setting his tape recorder rolling and leaning forward on the chair opposite me like a hunting dog in the middle of the western-style living room; apparently the investigation was important enough this time for his wife to let his friends come over and play (i.e. he’d begged her ‘til she agreed to go out). “Tell me everything.”</p><p>“There’s been so <em>much</em>,” I said, feeling helpless. Usually I’m pretty great at coming up with a lucid, detailed, attractive description of objects and events – it’s my job, after all. But I’d been shaken rather badly and I couldn’t seem to get it out, the feeling of it, the weirdness and surreal nightmarish touch that had been building up these past weeks. “It’s…” I wished I had a piece of paper, I could probably get it down in writing. “It’s just like…”</p><p>“It’s high strangeness,” said Seunghyun decisively from his seat in the corner. “Classic.” He wasn’t meant to be in the room at all, Henry hadn’t wanted us ‘contaminating’ each other’s reports, but I’d insisted. The American’s expression cleared before becoming even more excited.</p><p>“Go on, then,” he said to Seunghyun, “you first! Jiyong, go make yourself a sandwich, you could use one.” Seunghyun gave me a small nod, so I huffed and left the hot-seat to raid Henry’s fridge. Maybe once I got back I’d be able to think straight.</p><p>It took a full forty-five minutes for Seunghyun to give his so-called testimony. When they called me back in he looked tired and somehow soothed, even grateful that Henry had believed him. The redhead looked more than believing: he was practically ecstatic. I couldn’t help thinking this was the kind of bizarreness he dreamed about encountering every damn day. God, his poor wife.</p><p>“Now then,” said Henry. “Your turn. Tabi’s gonna keep his mouth shut unless told otherwise, so just proceed in the most logical way for you: chronological order or grouped according to phenomenon.”</p><p>“I’ll go by phenomena, I guess.” I’d brought my notes and after a quick swot in the kitchen I felt more ready to explain without (hopefully) sounding like a lunatic. And so I went: creepy ufologists (human or otherwise), glass-smashing, nuisance calls, feelings of being observed, and finally Misc. Weird Sights. Behind me I could sense Seunghyun listening with absolute attention; some of this he hadn’t heard and I didn’t know what he was making of it now. Henry began wide-eyed and remained that way, only pausing my narrative every now and then to make furious notes and shout out random senseless (to me) exclamations.</p><p>Once I’d talked so long my throat was ragged I finally came to the Misc. category. When I told Henry about the dwarf he got <em>very</em> interested; you could tell because he stopped shouting. And when I said the little man had been singing his eyes went as bright and round as new coins.</p><p>“Singing what?” he asked, scribbling away in his inevitable notebook without even looking at it.</p><p>“An<em> arirang</em> – an old protest song. I saw him again just this week, outside the bookstore.”</p><p>“<em>Dude</em>.”</p><p>“What?” asked Seunghyun from his position in back; he sounded as perplexed as I was.</p><p>“Was he Korean, you think?” probed Henry. “You said some of them maybe weren’t.” I thought carefully: my eyes had been drawn to the tiny man, of course, first because of the song and then his height; I’d have noticed, wouldn’t I, if there was anything else that didn’t fit?</p><p>“Uh…yeah, pretty sure. Definitely Asian, anyway; and he sounded native. None of them were <em>foreign</em>-foreign like…” I’d meant to say ‘like you’ but decided it would be rude.</p><p>“Interesting.” My interviewer chewed on the end of his pen and stared at the ceiling as if attempting to recall something. “Yeah…she <em>said</em> one of them looked Korean. And of course the others…”</p><p>“Who’s ‘she’?” interjected Seunghyun from his corner. He might as well have been talking to the wall.</p><p>“Tell me about the woman with the rainbow eyes again,” instructed Henry, after some frantic scratching in the notebook. “Good-looking?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” We were still in Misc.</p><p>“Did she have a mark on her throat? Anything like that?”</p><p>“I dunno.” I squinted, thinking back to that one instance among what had become a multitude. “I think…she had some kinda goth choker round her neck. Maybe red velvet?”</p><p>“Hah!”</p><p>“You planning on explaining any of this?” Seunghyun demanded, breaking the rules and scooting his chair over to sit beside me. Henry didn’t seem to care anymore and I was glad: I’d been wigged out enough before I even came in here and this interrogation was only screwing with me further. Seunghyun leaned his forearm on the back of my chair and I inhaled the familiar smell of him gratefully. “The rose smell, too,” said Seunghyun as if reading my mind. “We never got to the bottom of <em>that</em>. And who’s ‘she’?!”</p><p>“Shame on you, Tabi,” Henry scolded him happily. “One, odd smells seem to be a by-product of poltergeist energy, which explains why only Jiyong experienced the flowers. And two, if you’d read it properly you’d remember: who ‘she’ is, and what she saw, and what it might mean.”</p><p>“Shut up, I have a life!” I thought that was pretty rich coming from Seunghyun, but diplomatically buttoned my lip.</p><p>“Either of you,” said Henry, scooting forward with his biro poised. “The guy who called at your mom’s house, Jiyong, or the one who ‘interviewed’ you and talked about the roses…or the ones Tabi saw…how big would you say they were?” I frowned thoughtfully; but against my shoulders I felt Seunghyun twitch. So he’d seen these guys too?! He never told me that.</p><p>“None of them were dwarves, if that’s what you mean,” I informed my designated investigator. “I guess they looked…normal size?” Henry’s pen drooped a tad, but was back at full mast when Seunghyun swallowed heavily.</p><p>“Two of them were regular,” my friend said slowly. “The ones who called on my next-door neighbour and pretended to be salesmen.” He hadn’t told me <em>that</em>, either. “But the other one…I thought I’d been <em>dreaming</em> him, but…” He glanced at me anxiously.</p><p>“Uh-huh?!” Henry was practically vibrating in his seat.</p><p>“He’s so tall he has to stoop to look in the window.” Seunghyun’s toned arm was unsteady at my back; so <em>that</em> was what his nightmares had been. “I’ve…I’ve never felt like that in my life before – how I felt when he finally saw me.” I knew then that he was genuinely scared, that something about those memories had knocked a deep-seated fear loose in him – a fear that was rapidly transferring itself to me. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to relive it.</p><p>“Ack!” squawked Henry, and before I could so much as ask Seunghyun what was wrong the redhead leapt to his feet and dashed out of the room.</p><p>“What’s happening?” I asked Seunghyun quietly. He met my eyes and I read confusion and excitement but most of all deep unease.</p><p>“I have an idea,” he told me. “But I want <em>him</em> to say it – I don’t wanna be the crazy one this time, Jiyong, I need to hear it from someone else!” Was that why he was scared – ‘cos this had become so intensely bizarre, so far away from run-of-the-mill spaceships he thought he really might be losing his mind? I leaned closer, wanting to comfort him. He bit his lip. “And if I <em>am</em> right I still don’t know what it means.” Just then Henry came back, arms laden with the kind of books that lined Seunghyun’s apartment. Seunghyun got a glimpse of the titles and his jaw went tight. “You know what I’m thinking, right?” he asked his friend.</p><p>“Oh, <em>yes</em>.” Henry slammed the books down on the table and gave us a triumphant look. “The Men in Black!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/DADbcim.png">  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay y'all, shit's about to get esoteric XD</p><p>There are many many paranormal books that refer to the Men in Black (and I'm not talking Will Smith ^^), and just as many theories as to who/what they are. We're gonna get into that next chapter, but if you're interested in just how batshit, confusing, and entertaining this topic is, I recommend the 3-part series 'Men in Black' by <em>The Last Podcast on the Left</em>. It's so much weirder than you could ever imagine, as Jiyong is about to find out...</p><p>Next chapter: More spooky, and a fashion show :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong gets a theoretical dose of weird...and then a very practical dose.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sooo, the second half of the chapter is kinda Paranormal Activity, but the first half is very...Paranormal Discussion ^^;<br/>For anyone who gets confused, bored, or just skims right over the 'Introduction to the Men in Black' portion, just let me know and I'll give you a recap in the comments, 'cos it <em>will</em> become a whole thing... :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What followed was one of the longest nights of my life. Up to that point, anyway. After his dramatic revelation Henry looked at us expectantly, as if we oughta be stunned. I’d heard the term before, of course, it popped up in around thirty percent of KUFOS discussions; even Daesung’s group trotted it out on occasion. But it meant nothing in particular to me, so I adopted a quizzical expression and waited. Seunghyun, on the other hand, let out a long, trembling sigh: whatever he’d been thinking, he’d just had it confirmed. The two experts gave each other knowing stares.</p>
<p>“All right,” I said, because we weren’t gonna get anywhere like this, “I’ll bite. What’re the ‘Men in Black’?” Henry beamed at me.</p>
<p>“That’s one of the most important and complicated questions any ufologist can ask!”</p>
<p>“Hey, don’t lump me in with you people!” Of <em>course</em> it was going to be complicated. To my good fortune it was Seunghyun who piped up.</p>
<p>“Basically,” he began. Henry sighed and the taller man made a silent gesture for patience. “Basically they’re strangers – not always male, but usually – who turn up after alien or paranormal sightings and ask people questions.”</p>
<p>“…Like the guy who asked me about the roses,” I said slowly. “And that Moon man.” They nodded.</p>
<p>“Those two weren’t from any of the UFO groups we know,” Seunghyun explained. “I think they were…something else. The Men in Black, sometimes they threaten people: tell them not to talk about what they saw, or tell them nothing happened at all.” That was the last thing Moon had said to me! To warn Seunghyun not to talk. “The general understanding is that they’re government agents: secret service or whatever, and they’re sent to hush it all up.”</p>
<p>“Why bother, though?” I inquired. “What’s the point?” Everyone thought people who talked about UFOs were bonkers, ‘cos ‘everyone’ was just like me. Like how I used to be.</p>
<p>“Maybe to squash the possibility of public panic,” Henry chimed in. “A lot of this Men-in-Black stuff happened decades ago, and people were more credulous then. There’re official documents that show the FBI was investigating the first American UFO groups in the Fifties – they were scared they’d be infiltrated by Communists.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think Communists are that dumb,” I observed.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but J. Edgar Hoover was super paranoid: he was sure they’d try and cause havoc by getting people all jumpy with flying saucer talk, and while the public was distracted the Reds would sneak in the back door. Maybe the South Korean government’s worried about the same thing with the North, so they’re trying to clamp down on UFO rumours.” He curled his lip. “Even today it doesn’t take much to make a group of idiots hysterical – it’s all about the reporting.” He gave me a significant nod. “That’s why MIBs often target journalists.” Great, another acronym.</p>
<p>“Or,” added Seunghyun, “they’re trying to cover up the fact that what witnesses see aren’t alien craft at all but some kind of secret military technology: experimental stuff they don’t want the public knowing about.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” I nodded. “That I can buy.” I had no doubt that the governments of most nations were engaged in some shady shit; if that was what all this was about, it made sense to keep an eye on reporters: we’re pathologically nosy people.</p>
<p>“So that’s option one,” summarized Seunghyun. “Government hush-up.” I had a horrible feeling there was a ‘but’ coming. “But,” he continued (called it), “some of us think it runs a lot crazier.” I groaned, and he had the decency to give me a sympathetic smile. “That’s not so much my area.” Now I <em>knew</em> it was gonna be bad, if even Seunghyun thought it was nuts.</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t have anything to drink around here?” I suggested. “I think I’m gonna need one.” Henry trotted away again and returned with soju, whiskey, and tequila. “Whichever,” I said.</p>
<p>“The thing about the government conspiracy theory,” Henry began as he poured a reckless amount of liquor for all three of us (I guessed the official interview was over now), “is that it doesn’t account for how ooky-spooky some of these encounters get.”</p>
<p>“Spooky is right.” I remembered the ceiling light exploding, the other glasses smashing, and wondered how much of said spookiness could possibly be chalked up to coincidence. Yeah, I’d been deeply disturbed, but there was an outside chance it <em>didn’t</em> mean anything more than a series of freak accidents. And this ‘tall man’ poor Seunghyun had been seeing – in all likelihood they <em>were</em> just dreams. Surely. The only things I couldn’t explain away were Moon’s mouth and the card he had given me. Beside me my beautiful friend was chewing on his lip, eyebrows knitted anxiously.</p>
<p>“Take Point Pleasant.” Henry shuffled through his pile of dubious literature and tapped the cover of a dog-eared English book titled <em>The Mothman Prophecies</em>.</p>
<p>“That again?” The name had come up after our initial sighting, I recalled, and I wasn’t best pleased to run across it a second time. I still thought the tenuous link these guys had tried to make between what we’d <em>maybe</em> seen when the bridge collapsed and that American monster story was pretty ridiculous.</p>
<p>“They had UFO sightings too,” Henry reminded us. “Closer encounters than you guys had, they even saw figures. But what this investigator Keel seemed to find just as remarkable as the aliens or the Mothman itself were the weird people who turned up asking questions – and the things they said. Eerie phone calls and black cars tailing witnesses. In a way those guys were creepier than any of the cryptids or aliens!”</p>
<p>“Like how?” Seunghyun had his own sodding notebook out, pen in one hand and glass in the other.</p>
<p>“Like…a guy showing up in a local reporter’s office and asking her if she knew Keel, if she’d seen a UFO, and what she’d do if someone told her to stop writing about it all. <em>That’s</em> who I mean by ‘she’.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like police or government to me,” I ventured.</p>
<p>“Right? Only she said he looked <em>Korean</em>.” Huh. That was odd. “But it wasn’t even that… She said he couldn’t seem to speak English properly, but not ‘cos he had a foreign accent or anything. Just…unnatural. Like a Stephen Hawking machine voice. And he had a stutter.” It sounded like more of the crippling social awkwardness to me. “And he wasn’t the only one: she met more, and other people in town did too. All of them wore black suits and those old-timey hats you were talking about, fedoras? Like they wanted to blend in but got the time period a bit wrong. Some of these characters would use strange vocabulary or syntax, some would ask questions that didn’t make any sense.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, the one who tried to interview me sounded like that.”</p>
<p>“Exactly!” said Henry.</p>
<p>“But what else?” pressed Seunghyun, jotting down notes. “This could all be explained as administrators with no social skills.” My thoughts exactly.</p>
<p>“Well, how about the two salesmen who called door to door that same year? Every place they went to they said they were selling something different,” said Henry smugly. “But then they’d never actually try to make a sale – like the ones you say have been hanging around your neighbourhoods. They even told one house they were Mormons!” I knew a bit about that, we got all kinds of missionaries in Korea back then.</p>
<p>“So? Mormons wear black suits and go door to door weirding people out. I’d pin this on them for sure.”</p>
<p>“They kept asking about aliens,” Henry explained. “One of them was very tall and blonde, looked Swedish.” Seunghyun’s pencil paused and he glanced up at this piece of information.</p>
<p>“A Nordic?”</p>
<p>“Maybe, maybe not,” said Henry. He poured me another drink. “The other guy was short – <em>really</em> short.” That rang a bell.</p>
<p>“What, like a dwarf?” Was that why he’d been so interested earlier?</p>
<p>“Maybe, maybe not,” the infuriating man said again. “Anyway, it’s…interesting. These guys going around making weird requests when someone let them in – taking mysterious pills, eating salt and drinking bleach.” Seunghyun nodded to himself; was he making anything of all this? “Especially when you find out who <em>else</em> visited that reporter.” After a gulp of whiskey and a brief coughing spell Henry went on. “So, she’s in her office and a guy walks in. Tiny: maybe four foot, only this one was white – so white he looked sick.” The unnatural complexion of Moon’s face rose hauntingly in my mind’s eye. “He didn’t even ask her anything; just told her he needed directions. He freaked her out by staring at her; she said his eyes were strange.” Strange eyes! I remembered again – there’d been a lot of those around. “Then he got super excited by the pen on her desk, like he’d never seen one before, so she gave it him and he ran away.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” said Seunghyun, “that’s creepy, I guess. High strangeness.” I had to admit, it’d probably freak me out: at least <em>my</em> short man had been lucid. Then I thought again of Moon and his red drawn-on lips, and felt ill.</p>
<p>“I’ve got more!” Henry warned us. “And it just gets weirder.”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>good</em>.”</p>
<p>“Some people think this kinda thing is part of government psy-ops programs,” he offered. And, at my expression: “Yeah, that none of this is paranormal; it’s Special Forces or secret service or whoever, but they’re being weird on <em>purpose</em>. Freaking people out, making them paranoid.”</p>
<p>“For what?!”</p>
<p>“Psychological warfare tests,” said Seunghyun. “Not like the Americans are the only government who’d experiment on their citizens.” I gave a grudging nod to that: trust in our politicians and military had been at an all-time low. I could just about believe they’d target people and fuck about with them for ‘research’; especially if they’d somehow found out I was gay, maybe while I was doing military service. There’d been times when I was so lonely in the Army that I’d fooled around with guys against my better judgement – was this some kind of sick belated punishment?! Did they think Seunghyun was like <em>me</em>?</p>
<p>“On the other hand,” countered Henry, pouring me another drink, “that’s rather the opinion of the conspiracy-theory set. Maybe it’s <em>part</em> of this whole thing, but personally…don’t you feel like there’s something a lot creepier going on?”</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>,” agreed Seunghyun with fervour. He looked at me. “Aren’t you scared?” he said quietly. I pursed my lips.</p>
<p>“…Yeah.” My friend jerked his head at Henry.</p>
<p>“Go on, then, let’s hear your spooky theory.”</p>
<p>“I’m not the biggest expert.” Suspiciously modest. “But could be the roots of this aren’t just paranormal. Could be the supernatural’s involved – magic!”</p>
<p>“<em>Magic</em>?” He’d used the English word so I did too.</p>
<p>“With a ‘k’,” Henry corrected me. I frowned; Seunghyun spelled it for me, not looking too happy. Perhaps <em>magick</em> (stupid-ass way to write it) was a bridge too far even for him. Personally, I’d heard so much mad shit since I met the pair of them that one more unbelievable theory barely raised an eyebrow. “Some people-” (That phrase again) “-say MIBs have been around as long as humans; since we started practicing magick, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Evidence, please,” said Seunghyun, back at it with the notebook.</p>
<p>“There’re cycles of Men in Black sightings throughout history,” Henry began, clearly gleeful that he had a captive audience for once in his life. “During old fads for alchemy, around the witchcraft trials, in rural India and Africa and everywhere the use of experimental mystic rites was going particularly strong.”</p>
<p>“I don’t recall many guys wearing black suits and fedoras in <em>The Crucible</em>,” Seunghyun pointed out. I nodded firmly: I wasn’t exactly up on world history but Mr. American Studies knew his stuff. Henry waved his hand.</p>
<p>“Their appearance changes over time, obviously. But the basic details are the same: creepy pale dudes with unsettling bodies turn up dressed in black, interact with the magick-users and locals and generally freak people out. And at the same time bad stuff starts happening: two thousand years ago Grecian alchemy was in vogue when the Library of Alexandria got burned, and half the civilized world’s wisdom was <em>gone</em>; the medieval lads gave it another try and we got the Dark Ages; witchcraft came along and the Black Plague tore through Europe.” Henry leaned forward to hammer home his point. “The same MIBs were there every time – and the result was always the destruction of knowledge and human progress.”</p>
<p>“That’s <em>very</em> interesting,” said Seunghyun, whose pen had just run out. Henry was busy snorting excitedly so I passed him a new one. “Let’s say we accept the connection: heavy use of magick can make MIBs appear, bad shit happens.”</p>
<p>“Right!”</p>
<p>“But…what <em>are</em> they? And what’re they doing hanging around UFO encounters in the twentieth century?” Henry triumphantly produced another book from the pile. On the cover was a bunch of nonsense foreign words I couldn’t read without moving my lips. “<em>Liber AL vel Legis</em>,” Seunghyun kindly said. He frowned.</p>
<p>“I think this would be a good time,” announced Henry, beaming, “for me to bring up Aleister Crowley!” There was a silence: nonplussed from me and (judging by his expression) incredulous from Seunghyun.</p>
<p>“<em>Crowley</em>?” said Seunghyun at last, with a groan. “The Thelema guy?” Henry nodded while Seunghyun vehemently shook his head.</p>
<p>“Yeah, fuckers, the Great Beast 666 himself!”</p>
<p>“Don’t get all esoteric on me, dude,” Seunghyun warned.</p>
<p>“But this <em>is</em> esoteric – there’re a few schools of thought that could explain what’s been happening to you, but the best ones are all wiggedy-woo!” Henry sounded way too happy.</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, the Left-Hand Path’s a bit much even for me!”</p>
<p>“‘Scuse me,” I put in loudly before Henry could start ranting. “What the fuck’re you talking about?”</p>
<p>“Aleister <em>Crowley</em>,” the redhead repeated, shuffling his pile of books. “Poet, novelist, spy, explorer, occultist, magician, prophet – if you believe his PR, anyway.” Seunghyun made a derisive sound; Henry grinned. “Also champion Power Bottom.” I could feel my eyes open wide, but if Henry was taking a crack at me he didn’t react. “No, honest,” he said. “He went out to the desert with one of his protégés, they did a ton of drugs, then Crowley made the guy fuck him in this big magick ritual and it drove the poor bastard literally <em>insane</em>. Gotta give him props for that!” He cackled.</p>
<p>“And the massive amount of hallucinogens had no hand in it,” added Seunghyun in a withering tone. Henry shrugged.</p>
<p>“All part of the same question, isn’t it: did the drugs and the ritual make Crowley see things that weren’t there, or do they make it so we can see the things that really <em>are</em> there? It’s just an offshoot of the old problem.” When I glanced at Seunghyun he was giving his friend a grudging nod; he noticed my look of confusion/impatience/about-to-murder-someone.</p>
<p>“Does seeing UFOs make you crazy?” he elaborated. “Or do only crazy people have the <em>ability</em> to see UFOs?” I could tell Henry was about to pop off again, and jumped in before he could.</p>
<p>“Look, what the fuck does this…whoever he was…have to do with these creepy stalker assholes?” I turned to Seunghyun. “Just… give me a decent explanation for why we’re here talking about <em>wizards</em> and not at the <em>police</em> right now!”</p>
<p>“Okay,” said Henry, thumping his books and finally taking a seat on the table beside them. “Let me explain!”</p>
<p>“Can’t <em>you</em> explain?” I entreated Seunghyun, hoping for the lesser of two evils. He pursed his lips but shook his handsome head.</p>
<p>“Much as I hate to concede it…” (Hah!) “I don’t know much about the Men in Black.” I knit my eyebrows.</p>
<p>“I reckon they’ve <em>gotta</em> be National Intelligence or whatever,” I said slowly. It was a fading hope, I had to admit. I could see Henry champing at the bit, but Seunghyun put out a hand to quiet him. “When you talked about those sightings before…it sounded exactly like government agents trying to make sure the local yokels don’t whip the whole thing into hysteria.” I wasn’t sure I could handle the other possibilities.</p>
<p>“That’s what I always thought!” Seunghyun spoke before Henry could get in. “Deep down I thought…yeah, that’s the most logical explanation, and it got exaggerated through repetition – and unscientific reporting – into something eerie.” I shuffled a bit closer to him, happy to show my support for any gleam of sense at this point. Henry’s bearded face assumed an expression of both pity and smugness, which was unhappily justified when Seunghyun went on: “But that was before I saw <em>them</em>.” He turned those huge eyes on me. “You did too – not the Tall Man…” I could almost feel his shudder. “The others, though. You saw they weren’t normal, and it’s <em>not</em> just socially inept nerds not knowing how to talk to people; I oughta know about that!” His hand reached out to grip my forearm, and I felt it tremble. “They <em>weren’t really people at all</em>.”</p>
<p>“Right! Well, everyone knows MIBs are deeply involved in alien cases,” Henry began briskly, ignoring the mood. Yes; even I was aware of that. “And Crowley has to do with both!”</p>
<p>“Really?” Seunghyun seemed surprised. “I thought he was just a super horny occultist.”</p>
<p>“Dude, he’s been tangentially involved in almost every paranormal field throughout the twentieth century! He seems to get…brought in by people: topics you’d never think to associate him with, his name pops up – I mean, he is the <em>daddy</em>.” Henry was grinning idiotically. “Oh, man, I’m falling re-in-love with Aleister Crowley!”</p>
<p>“He’s not exactly a big thing over here,” my friend reminded him. “And certainly not in UFO circles. So you wanna unpack all that for us? Exactly how is he connected with the Men in Black? And <em>aliens</em>?”</p>
<p>“You know he took drugs and did massive rites and talked to otherworldly beings, right?” Seunghyun nodded with a hint of an eye roll; hey, he <em>had</em> learned something from me. “And he drew an image of the entity he said he’d been communing with?” said Henry; he was so excited I could tell he was about to drop a bomb (or what he considered a bomb) on us. “It looked <em>exactly</em> like a Grey – an alien!” There was a pause.</p>
<p>“Aaaand back to the Men in Black, please!” I ordered; I didn’t give a monkey’s about aliens right now: of all the things I’d seen since the bridge collapse, Close Encounters <em>definitely</em> felt the least pressing. Henry looked disappointed but returned (please God) to the point.</p>
<p>“So to keep it short.” Fat chance of that; I grabbed the tequila bottle and nursed it (neither of them noticed). “You asked why MIBs popped up again during the twentieth century, and why they appear around paranormal encounters: what they are, and why they’re <em>here</em>. Okay, Point One: the reason Men in Black are around again is ‘cos Crowley and his followers were practicing serious ritual magick pretty heavily since the beginning of this century – for personal gain and knowledge and just ‘cos it’s fucking rock ‘n’ <em>roll</em> – and, asshole or not, he was one of the most powerful magicians of the modern age. He invented a whole new way of working with the stuff; you don’t need to know the details but it was <em>effective</em>.”</p>
<p>“So he brought them?” I inquired.</p>
<p>“That’s what they say. Somehow he did, or else they were attracted to the magick and brought <em>themselves</em> over from somewhere else. They hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years, in the West anyway, so maybe there’s some way to get rid of ‘em; people say Crowley spent the rest of his life trying to figure out how, ‘cos he realized he’d fucked up big-time. But here they still are, hanging around.”</p>
<p>“Why, if he was as powerful as all that?” I thought I was doing a pretty good job of suspending my disbelief.</p>
<p>“Oh, there were other guys doing his rituals too,” Henry said. “And at least one was probably using them against him: not everyone hates the things the Men in Black do!”</p>
<p>“And what do they <em>do</em>?” asked Seunghyun. He was still looking sceptical (an unusual expression on him). “Why’re they, for example, here in 1980s Seoul?”</p>
<p>“What they’ve always done – what they did in the Middle Ages and in Greece and before the World Wars: they’re here to make us dumber.”</p>
<p>“Sounding pretty dumb so far,” I couldn’t help putting in. Henry gave me a condescending glance but was of course undeterred.</p>
<p>“Specifically, MIBs are inhuman entities whose goal is to stop humanity advancing: to stifle our curiosity, destroy higher knowledge, and make us afraid to <em>think</em>. And if they can create a few crises to kill a bunch of us off at the same time, so much the better.” He counted off on his fingers. “Library burning down – Dark Ages beginning – populations wiped out by the Black Death – shared confidence among nations halted by the World Wars. And they don’t only operate on a global scale. Hence the UFOs. What is it you’ve been saying about the purpose of encounters, Tabi?” Seunghyun twitched like a schoolboy unexpectedly called upon to answer in class.</p>
<p>“Uhh…UFOs might be appearing to make us think about the nature of reality?”</p>
<p>“To stretch our minds,” agreed Henry. “To make us go deeper into the meaning of time, space, the universe – all that jazz. Isn’t that why we’re ufologists?!”</p>
<p>“Of course.” They smiled at each other.</p>
<p>“And the way we do that is to talk about this stuff: share ideas, try and educate <em>non-believers</em>-” Henry aimed a pointed look my way “-that there’s more to this life than what we see in front of our noses!” He was getting worked up again. “That’s completely opposite to what the MIBs want! So they come freak out witnesses, people who’ve come into contact with the paranormal; they come to warn you – even to convince you it never happened. They don’t want you <em>talking</em> about it!” An expression of grudging understanding was making its way across Seunghyun’s handsome face. “<em>That’s</em> why <em>The Mothman Prophecies</em> has more Men in Black stories than aliens or even Mothman himself! They <em>become</em> the story: they make themselves the weirdest thing about your whole experience and scare you silent at the same time. So all the potential for growth we could’ve gained from that UFO encounter is lost!”</p>
<p>“…Hmm,” said Seunghyun. Henry was panting. I passed him a bottle.</p>
<p>“…How far did I get?” he demanded, wiping his hands on his tshirt. “Did I get to Point Two?”</p>
<p>“I think it was in there somewhere,” I hazarded; my journalist mind was good at chronicling information. “You’ve explained what you think they might be, and why they’ve been freaking out me and Seunghyun.”</p>
<p>“Good. Good.”</p>
<p>“What you haven’t told us,” I went on pointedly, “is that even if one of these theories is real…what the fuck are we meant to <em>do</em> about it?” Dammit, that was <em>all I wanted</em>. Why had I been listening to this rant otherwise?!</p>
<p>“I’m not sure,” Henry admitted. Crap. “Me and Tabi need to do some more reading.” He tapped the Crowley book he was holding. “<em>Book of the Law</em>; I’ll see if I can get my head round this. Seunghyun can make a start on the rest of this stack.” I stared at the pile.</p>
<p>“Can I go to sleep, then?”</p>
<p>“Knock yourself out!” said Henry, aiming a magnanimous wave at the sofa that sat in the shade of his monstrous computer. “But you’d better get used to being patient, ‘cos this is gonna take a <em>lot</em> longer than one night.” Seunghyun, whose passion for peculiar research seemed to have overtaken his bullshit meter, made an eager move for the books. I removed myself to the sofa and upended the tequila bottle down my throat; it seemed like the most constructive thing I could do to assist. Before I passed out I saw their profiles silhouetted in front of their shared lamp, noses deep in their books: getting nowhere slowly. Still, they looked <em>happy</em> – and seeing Seunghyun happy was the one consolation in the absurdity that had become my life.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seunghyun, put those books down!” I warned my scholarly friend from the lobby of the Arts Center. “You’ve gotta be here in forty-five minutes!” His deep voice came down the line with a barely-repressed energy I knew very well.</p>
<p>“This stuff is <em>nuts</em>,” he informed me. “I can’t tell if Henry’s right or if this is a psychological thing or a shared religious experience or what!” Religious experience my ass – this was <em>not</em> the time for a jaunt down the befuddling road that is Christian ufology.</p>
<p>“Yeah, well if you don’t wanna meet your maker you’d better bookmark it and get your butt round here.” Seunghyun told me goodbye casually and hung up; he didn’t sound nervous in the slightest, and he bloody oughta be: my show was <em>tonight</em>. I jumped when someone tapped me on the shoulder (I was a ball of paranoia and overall agitation), and turned to find Soojoo in sweatpants with her funny face bare. She looked a million dollars.</p>
<p>“Was that you-know-who on the phone?”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh,” I said defiantly.</p>
<p>“Gonna be late, is he?”</p>
<p>“Not if he knows what’s good for him!” Soojoo peered down at me worriedly for a second; then she cupped my face with one manicured hand, nail tapping against my cheekbone.</p>
<p>“Chin up, Ji: we can handle him. You’re going to do great. <em>What</em> are you gonna do?”</p>
<p>“Great,” I echoed. She shot me a smile and swanned off towards Wardrobe. I crouched down beneath the public telephone and lit a cigarette with unsteady hands. God, she’d better be right!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One hour!” the show director called to me. I nodded as if I had a handle on the situation, as if the night of my big runway wasn’t making me quake in my designer shoes with every minute closer it got. We were almost ready; between us Kyungho and I had managed everything on my checklist and now I could leave the show itself to the technical experts I’d hired (and who would bankrupt me if this collection didn’t sell). On one hand I’d been pretty distracted in the final run-up, what with the skyrocketing weirdness in my private life. On the other, perhaps the MIBs and magicians and mad theories had helped take my mind off worrying how tonight was gonna go down.</p>
<p>I took a nervous walk around the venue, still closed for the moment, before naturally gravitating with scissors and thread to where Seunghyun was getting ready. I’d made sure the men’s dressing room (a luxury in itself) had curtained partitions behind which the models could change – pretty unorthodox, but I knew how earnest Seunghyun was about his personal privacy. It was important to me that he enjoy this experience: even if he got no kick out of modelling I wanted him to get one out of <em>me</em>. It was hard to keep my eye on the ball, stage fright aside: I wanted to spend my time fussing over him, dressing him up and overseeing the final alterations to his outfits, fixing his hair and relaxing him. But I had to be professional and divide my time evenly between the other models, assorted fashion journalists who might run columns on me if this turned out well, and anyone else who required my paranoid supervision; especially as I’d managed to bag Soojoo as my leading lady. People would really be expecting a <em>show</em>, and to be honest I was now a little uncertain I could deliver.</p>
<p>“This is gonna be neat,” Seunghyun told me when he was out of hair and makeup (he’d turned up a whole minute early); as usual he sounded totally unfazed by the prospect of walking for the fashion heads of Asia. I gazed up at him – and up and up. God, he looked perfect. And <em>tall</em>. For the first outfit (streetwear) I’d put him in tight denim pants, black with silver thread running through them, and they showed off his legs and traffic-stopping ass. Atop that in shining pearlescent silver was the futuristic version of a biker jacket I’d decided only he had the stature to pull off (you wouldn’t believe the shoulder pads on that thing, but what can I say, it was the Eighties). It made him look like a giant as he smiled down at me, black-lined eyes an inhuman blue from the contacts.</p>
<p>“You think so?” I asked weakly, once I’d picked my jaw off the floor. I waved my hand in the direction of the runway: the lighting, music setup, the massive disco ball that was to set the catwalk sparkling, the long lines of empty chairs about to be filled with people whose job it was to criticize me the way I did everyone else. “There’s just so much to go wrong!” He was laughing at me, I could tell.</p>
<p>“Ji, you’ve got a good director, good staff. Your clothes are awesome” (high praise coming from him), “so if anything doesn’t quite work out it sure as hell won’t be your fault.” Honestly – could a man be any sweeter? He was touching my shoulder, firm and calm, and his thumb rubbed soothingly at the muscle running along the crook of my neck. It distracted me from my terrible nerves and at the same time got them jumping for a whole different reason. Dammit, that absent contact felt so good. I could’ve stayed that way forever, and might have if I hadn’t heard the doors open and my audience begin to stream in. A runner popped up from behind a clothes rail to give me the ten-minute warning. Shit. <em>Shit</em>.</p>
<p>Maybe Seunghyun read how close to panic I was (and the fact that I hadn’t eaten properly for three days), ‘cos when I looked up wide-eyed he seemed to know exactly what I needed. He wrapped his arms around me without hesitation; I sank against him as he hugged me close. Jesus, I liked him so much. How could I not?</p>
<p>“Remember,” he told me in that rumble I adored, “you and me, we’re handling <em>otherworldly</em> shit. If we can deal with entities from another plane of existence we can certainly deal with <em>this</em>!” <em>Dork</em>, I thought, clinging to him. But for some reason it helped: I braced myself, felt a measure of self-confidence return as he smiled at me, and left him to take up my position. It was time to begin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a success! It actually <em>was</em>. I watched from the wings, biting my nails while the show unfolded as smoothly as these things ever did. There were small crises, of course: a broken heel, a model being put in the wrong outfit only to be rescued in the nick of time. Out front, though, I could concede it looked amazing. My colleagues were eyeing the textiles and construction critically; still, plenty of them were sketching away so there had to be something that’d caught their interest. My creations gleamed and glittered under the lights, all the dramatic angles and deep-sea curves I’d imagined as alienesque. A tasteful collection? Maybe not – but I had the growing hope that it was at least gonna be <em>memorable</em>.</p>
<p>Every time Seunghyun came off for an outfit change he’d pat me on the shoulder or just grin at me (time permitting) before he was whisked away into Fitting. He was slaying them out there and I hoped to see many of his photos in the fashion press tomorrow. By the time the whole thing was done and the models were lined up backstage waiting for the encore walk I could feel myself grinning like a fool: we’d <em>done</em> it. I was so relieved that at the same time I wanted to cry. The choreographer steered me between the two columns of models, and as the music changed (to something approximating a synth version of ‘triumphal march’) we all moved forward in unison.</p>
<p>I floated down the catwalk between Soojoo and Seunghyun, basking in the sweet sweet sound of applause. For <em>me</em>. My feet were barely touching the ground, and not just because the six-foot giraffes on either side of me had each taken an arm. I could feel their pride in me, both of them; it meant as much as the approbation of the audience. Truly, I was touched. We stopped as planned in the middle of the runway so I could more easily make eye contact with people; my two escorts took a step back and an assistant reached up to hand me a mic. I gave a deep bow first for good measure (you’d be amazed how far that can get you – people find humility in a pretty person very endearing). When the hall had quieted I raised the mic with a mildly shaky hand and tried to remember my speech.</p>
<p>“Thank you for coming to my show tonight,” I began. (It was something humdrum, anyway, I can never remember exactly what I say during public talks.) “It’s an honour to have so many talented people band together to make my second collection a reality, and I’m truly grateful you all came out to take a look.” A round of kindly-and-or-condescending nods from the fashion pros in the front row. At the end of the line I could see my mum and sister beaming from ear to ear; their pride bolstered me and the next time I spoke it was without the quiver in my voice. “This particular line of clothing took me in quite a different direction from anything I’ve worked on before: I’m not only trying to engage with the current voices of our youth, but with the future and what it could look like.” I darted a glance at Seunghyun. “I took inspiration from tales of that future, and of other worlds, and outer space – I want fashion to reflect how the human mind is expanding to encompass the possibilities technology and philosophy are showing us.” Taking a deep breath I looked back again and added: “And for that I need to thank my friend Choi Seunghyun. For opening <em>my</em> mind.”</p>
<p>“<em>Nerd</em>,” I heard Soojoo mouth behind me, and I could tell she was laughing. Beside her Seunghyun was grinning and mugging like an idiot, obviously so pleased to be thanked – for his passion (which I’d always looked down on) to be acknowledged in public – that he was unable to remain modelesque.</p>
<p>“It just goes to show,” I agreed, “that even things we consider nerdy, uncool, or for whatever reason unacceptable…they could be the catalyst for a beautiful idea.” That sounded like good copy; I could see my fellow fashion journalists making notes. And I absolutely meant it. I had the urge then to say something special, something deeper and more meaningful about how Seunghyun had opened my eyes. I didn’t need to: better to leave it while I still sounded smart. So why were my lips parting on what I knew, somehow <em>knew</em>, would be a confession? Not your typical romantic confession, you understand. No, something that would be far more important to him: a validation – I was about to confess to the world that we’d seen a UFO.</p>
<p>It had to come from the adrenaline, that mad urge. It was all that made sense; but at the same time it was as if something was opening my mouth <em>for</em> me, wanting me to declare that everything was true, that the paranormal was<em> real</em> and I couldn’t ignore it anymore! It felt like an upward swim towards the surface, towards air and light – the desperate desire to take a breath. There was an excitement to the prospect, a kind of giddiness I’d never felt before and which didn’t seem to come from inside me at all. Nevertheless, I was going to say it, and Seunghyun would be so happy! As I formed the first syllable I raised my head determinedly to reach the back of the hall. And I saw –</p>
<p>I knew from the instant I laid eyes on them that this was what Seunghyun had dreamed: two black-clad figures in an oddly clear space among the standing crowd of design students. Men in Black without a doubt! Only these weren’t the unsettling weirdos of my own MIB encounters, gradually generating unease the longer you spoke to them; these inspired a wave of fear so strong it felt almost like disgust because it made me physically retch. These were <em>monsters</em>. One was a large man, pale and corpulent; even at the distance I was standing I could see he (it) had no joints, and from his suit collar his chins piled onto one another until my eyes reached – nothing. I could see no facial features at all. But he was looking at me, that same gaze I’d felt on my back a dozen times these past weeks. The other I recognized immediately: impossibly tall, eight feet at least, and he was stooping forward to avoid being hit by a hanging banner; his back didn’t bend like a human’s does, more as if his spine could snap in half at right-angles wherever it wanted. Maybe it was the sheer body horror of them that made me want to throw up; or perhaps the clear and certain proof that Henry and Seunghyun were <em>right</em> – that these things were from another place, with rules totally foreign to ours.</p>
<p>“Ji?” came a faint whisper: Soojoo. I realized I’d stopped talking and was simply staring; I must look like I was having a meltdown. She sounded concerned but not terrified, and I knew she hadn’t seen them. Nobody had; they were here for <em>me</em>. For what? As soon as I asked it, as if they’d placed the thought directly in my mind, I understood. They were here to stop me talking. We’d been warned enough times, hadn’t we? The urge I’d just had to proclaim the truth out loud, they were here to repress it; and the knowledge that they could stop my tongue with the pure freezing fear of their manifestation dismayed me in a way I could never have imagined before. When I tried to move my jaw I couldn’t, and I felt sweat break out on my face. There was a sudden gasp from behind me.</p>
<p>“<em>Jiyong</em>!!” A deep, horrified voice, the sound of a nightmare crossing the threshold into the waking world – Seunghyun had caught sight of them too. The tall thing straightened its spine in one inorganic movement and took a step towards the runway, and then everything happened at once: I felt Seunghyun’s hand grip my arm convulsively, felt my own muscles grinding and straining in my jaw. With a tremendous effort my mouth opened, and when it did I could do nothing but scream. As if in response to that terrified frequency I saw the spangled lights on the runway begin to shiver; then a chiming sound beneath my yell. I looked upwards as the noise changed to a shatter, and the last coherent thing I remember was the sphere of the huge disco ball exploding above me. Glass shimmered down towards me like lethal confetti – and every other memory was lost in the ensuing chaos.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I remember flashes after that, brief images. Apparently I didn’t lose consciousness. Shock, said the doctor when I found myself in the emergency room at SNU Hospital; from the freak accident. I blinked at her: I couldn’t recall the disco ball hitting me but got a snapshot of myself sitting in the back of an ambulance having a shard of glass removed from my skin. She saw me flinch and reassured me I wasn’t badly hurt and could go home soon. Another image of my mum holding my hand; I glanced around but she wasn’t here now. Then I remembered Seunghyun.</p>
<p>“Was anyone else hurt?!” I demanded. “My friend…” The doctor nodded before reaching for the curtain around my bed and tugging it back briskly: there on a matching bed sat Seunghyun. My physician made a ‘ta-dah!’ gesture and strode off. As soon as Seunghyun saw me he smiled (or attempted to) and left his bed to perch on mine. While my clothes appeared intact he was wearing what looked like hospital scrubs.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he said, as soon as he noticed my inquiring look. “The runway stuff got all scratched up.”</p>
<p>“Screw the clothes!” Was that what he thought I cared about? “Are you okay?! Is everyone else?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, everyone’s fine, couple of minor cuts.” Thank God for that; although it was clear Seunghyun was downplaying his own injuries. He was sitting beside me now, his hands bandaged and the back of his neck and head covered with patches of gauze. He reached out; he was trying to hold my fingers gently, fumbling with his own clumsy digits. I took his hand in mine (I was sporting band-aids, nothing more).</p>
<p>“You don’t look fine to me!”</p>
<p>“We’re both okay,” he assured me. “And they went away.” I knew what he was talking about.</p>
<p>“You saw them too.” He nodded. “Did they do that to the disco ball?”</p>
<p>“…I don’t know.” Seunghyun looked at me searchingly. “We’ll have to find out. For now, though…try not to get mad around anything made of glass!”</p>
<p>“This isn’t funny!” I told him. He bumped his shoulder against mine and pulled a face. How bad had he been cut? I wanted to look but I knew he wouldn’t show me; he didn’t like anyone seeing his skin.</p>
<p>“I know. I’m just happy you’re finally accepting this is real!”</p>
<p>“It’s not like I <em>want</em> to.” We both sighed. As we were sitting there absently watching our joined fingers I heard light footsteps approaching, and turned to see my mum holding a cup of what smelled like soup (her first instinct is always to feed me).</p>
<p>“I gotta go pee,” said Seunghyun in a moment of surprising tact; he carefully removed his hand from mine and wandered out.</p>
<p>“Back with us?” My mum sat down in his place and gave my hair a quick stroke. I nodded. “Can you hold this or do you want me to feed you?” Honestly, mothers. She passed me the paper cup; yup, soup. “The doctor said you’ll be fine,” she reassured me. “And your cheek probably won’t scar.” I raised my free hand to my face sharpish and felt a pad of gauze; shit, I hadn’t even asked for a mirror – I really <em>must</em> be in shock. All I’d cared about was seeing Seunghyun’s perfect face free of injuries.</p>
<p>“…What happened?” I asked her, sounding like a kid. “I mean, what happened after?”</p>
<p>“They cleared the place out and called an ambulance,” my mother explained. “I suppose there’ll be an investigation into the Art Center’s safety regulations – or whatever company rigged that ball. At any rate there’d better be!” She petted my head again. I wondered what the investigators could possibly find. “You’re lucky,” she added, her tone changing to one of approval. “If it wasn’t for that handsome friend of yours things could have been a lot worse!”</p>
<p>“What d’you mean?” There was only one person she could be referring to.</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t <em>move</em>.” Her comforting tone went high with worry. “Everyone was staring up at that crazy lamp when it started shaking and of course they made themselves scarce – sensibly!” I gestured for her to continue ‘cos I knew she was about to go off on a tangent and begin scolding me for something I had no memory of. “But you were just standing there screaming!” she exclaimed. “That model – Choi? – in the next bed tried pulling you away but the thing shattered before he could and he…” She sniffed. “He <em>protected</em> you – I saw it.” I inhaled sharply: so that was why his hands and the back of his head and neck were messed up – Seunghyun had been injured shielding <em>me</em>. All of a sudden I needed to cry, though whether it was with guilt or gratitude I couldn’t tell.</p>
<p>“…I didn’t know,” I said, sniffling. This all felt like a dream, fuzzy and improbable; only the warmth of Seunghyun’s hand in mine had seemed real.</p>
<p>“You weren’t making a whole lot of sense,” my mum agreed. “We were so scared for you! When the ambulance came I rode with you both. And I know he was in pain but he kept telling me you’d be okay.” I detected a note of approbation there, one that warmed me because it was important to me that she like him (not that I was gonna be introducing him as my life partner or anything, just…there it was).</p>
<p>“Did you tell him thanks for me?”</p>
<p>“Of course! He seems like a good boy. And <em>so</em> handsome!” More approval: there was no-one immune to Seunghyun’s looks. “You make sure to thank him properly too.” I’d thank him absolutely any way he wanted. “Now. Are you coming home with Dami and I?” my mother asked. “Your friend’s very welcome too.”</p>
<p>“Seunghyun,” I told her. “Choi Seunghyun.” For a moment I entertained a slightly delirious fantasy of domestic bliss under the family roof with my mother’s blessing. It then occurred to me that Minwoo had been in the audience too, supporting me appropriately as my (not at all public) lover; presumably <em>he’d</em> be turning up any minute. If I wasn’t careful this could all get pretty convoluted and I didn’t feel like inventing an excuse to explain my various relationships. “It’s okay, you guys can go home. I’ve got a friend staying with me, he can look after me and Seunghyun.” My mum gave me a searching look, hand on my forehead.</p>
<p>“Let me go and check when they’ll discharge you. I can pick up any medication – you feel too hot.” Another dubious look. Hmm. Maybe she thought I’d had some weird turn or was developing a mental illness; what else would explain why I’d screamed the hall down around us in the middle of my own catwalk? My mum bustled off (nothing she likes better than being busy) and I slumped on my hospital bed waiting for Seunghyun to return or the next visitor to show up. In the meantime I had a little cry and felt better.</p>
<p>I’d just finished my soup when Soojoo sailed in, my sister at her heels (four-inch silver spike heels, she’d not bothered changing from the runway so she looked like an alien in a borrowed white doctor’s coat – half the KUFOS abductees would have their kinky flashbacks triggered with just one glimpse of her). My friend had a small piece of plaster on her arm from what I assumed was shrapnel but otherwise seemed unscathed.</p>
<p>“All right?” she demanded. I nodded mutely. “Can you talk or what? Did you really have an episode?” she followed up with her usual sensitivity.</p>
<p>“I’m fine; just scratches. Have you seen Seunghyun around? I need him.” That got me a narrow-eyed look.</p>
<p>“No. But your ‘friend’ Minwoo’s waiting to take you home.”</p>
<p>“Oh, good. Can you send him in? We’re bringing Seunghyun back to my place too.” I’d made the decision almost as soon as my mum had invited me; I didn’t want him going home on his own, not in his state. Who knew what was lurking around in the dark? And his parents had retired outside Seoul. So my flat it was, and there was absolutely nothing opportunistic about it. You can imagine how well this went down with Soojoo; now there <em>was</em> someone who seemed immune to Seunghyun’s charms.</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t you be putting yourself first right now?” she said, adding: “You’re usually so good at that!” I gave her the finger, which stung my hand. Dami (who’d known Soojoo almost as long as I had) clicked her tongue at me; I could tell whose side <em>she</em> was on.</p>
<p>“Didn’t you see? Seunghyun protected me!” Another glow merely at the thought of it, at meaning that much to him. “I’m not gonna leave him on his tod in the E.R. to make his own way home.”</p>
<p>“He only had to do it ‘cos you were acting bonkers! And whose fault is <em>that</em>?” As usual Soojoo had an (annoying) point, if only in that meeting Seunghyun had been the root cause of everything that was happening to me now. What she could never understand was that the good things more than levelled out the bad.</p>
<p>“Nobody’s fault.” Both women sighed, and I suspected my sister’s perspective on Seunghyun had not benefitted from a few hours in the company of Soojoo.</p>
<p>“We heard what he was babbling – what <em>you</em> were saying before the ambulance carted you off,” Soojoo went on severely, while Dami hovered anxiously behind her. “Monsters, aliens, black suits. Other bullshit I didn’t even understand.” I bit my lip, which hurt, I must’ve got cut there too; so, we’d been able to speak when the Men in Black had gone, and now everyone thought we were crazy. “You freaked your mum out bad!” my friend added, gentle for a moment before her eyes flashed again. “Listen, baby: it’s enough. This ‘friendship’ with Seunghyun has to <em>stop</em>.” Dami tilted her head but didn’t seem about to disagree. “That man is a boat anchor on your entire life,” Soojoo warned me. “Look at the state of your show! If you don’t make a break once and for all you’re gonna get hurt worse than cuts and bruises: you’re going to go <em>mad</em>. This is a small town for gossip, everyone will know it. And then you’ll be finished.” It was precisely what I’d worried about when I’d first made friends with Seunghyun: that his eccentricities would not only end his career but also rub off on <em>mine</em>. Right now, however, I didn’t care.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry you got scared,” I said softly, reaching out to her. “And I’m glad you’re not hurt.” She sniffed, still aloof for a second; then she leaned down and hugged me. A moment later I felt Dami’s hand on my back.</p>
<p>“We’ll discuss this later,” she promised. “I don’t think you’re in any state right now.” Spot on there, Sis. “We’ll go round up your friends. Then I’m taking Mum and Soojoo for a drink.”</p>
<p>“That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard all night,” declared Soojoo. She aimed a peck at the top of my head, and calm was restored when they left.</p>
<p>Minwoo appeared next, pulled the curtain closed and kissed me; he’d been worrying about me in the lobby ‘til one of my family had come to fetch him, he said.</p>
<p>“But what’d you think of the show?” I asked dopily – a much preferable topic to MIBs or my debatable sanity. Minwoo touched the gauze on my face and gave me a lopsided smile.</p>
<p>“Explosive.” I laughed; why not? Better than crying over spilt milk (or broken glass). I’d find out what damage I’d done my reputation tomorrow. Seunghyun came in while I was still giggling (it hurt the side of my face but now I couldn’t stop), and we all three went home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the small hours of the morning I found myself still awake, my cuts stinging and my mind unable to scrub the image of those two black-and-white creatures from my mental screen. Minwoo was asleep of course, he slept like the dead (if the dead snored). So I crept out of bed and into the living room, where my high-end sofa had been requisitioned as Seunghyun’s bed; he hadn’t wanted to sleep in the guest room, preferring to be close to us. I understood the feeling. The small Art Deco lamp was on, and in its glow I saw the shine of his eyes as he turned to look at me.</p>
<p>“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured apologetically. He was lying on his stomach; the back of his neck and shoulders must be killing him. “Not in the dark, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Me neither.” I sat down on the plush rug beside him. “I’ll stay here, hopefully you can grab some shut-eye. It’s the least I can do after you got hurt for me.” I smiled at him shyly.</p>
<p>“It came naturally,” he said, the big self-effacing darling. “And besides, I didn’t wanna look at…them…another second.” He shivered in the stuffy room; I huddled closer to the couch.</p>
<p>“I keep seeing them, that’s why I can’t sleep. It’s what was in your dream, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh.” His bandaged hand tightened its grip on the sofa cushion. “So…I guess not a dream. Unless I’m projecting on you.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.” I rested my head on the arm of the sofa. “I just know I’m scared: about what they might do – what <em>I</em> can do.” It was one of the thoughts keeping me awake: had it been those entities who’d smashed the disco ball to stop me speaking? Or had it been me? The wrenching explosion of energy I’d felt as I tried to open my mouth, the fear and fury at having them appear in front of me…had <em>I</em> done that? Seunghyun gave my head an awkward pat; his hand lingered there and tickled my scalp, but I didn’t draw away. Any comfort.</p>
<p>“We need to go deeper on the mystical side of the Men in Black. If we’re gonna understand this and stop it.” He shot me a rueful smile. “And for that we want someone even more expert on the ‘wiggedy’ than Henry; ‘cos it doesn’t get much spookier than tonight.”</p>
<p>“Who the hell’s more up on magical weirdness than Henry?!”</p>
<p>“Happily,” said Seunghyun, lying back down and tossing me one of his blankets as I reclined against the sofa, “I think I might know someone.” We lay with our heads close together, and with that comforting(?) thought and the safety of the nightlight we eventually fell asleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/hZiXiOe.png">  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aleister Crowley, dubbed ‘the wickedest man in the world’ by the press, was one of the most ubiquitous figures in the twentieth-century world of the weird. You can be researching magick or aliens or cults or Ouija or almost anything, and he’ll tangentially turn up somewhere. He’s well worth reading up on! He was notoriously horny (and bi), and was all about using sex and ritual to have visions and exert his will on the world. In the words of the real-life podcaster Henry: “No-one ever came like Aleister Crowley!”</p>
<p>Anyway, more paranormal talk and spooky happenings next week :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong gets another dose of Men in Black, while Seunghyun has a close encounter - in various senses.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Strap in for more paranormal theory from Seunghyun's expert, plus a teeny weeny bit of intimacy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We slept late the next day. When I woke I was on the living room floor with a cushion under my head. The place smelled delicious, and upon dragging myself to the kitchen I found Minwoo making samgyetang (basically chicken soup, good invalid food) and gimbap. Seunghyun was observing his culinary skills with a wondering expression (he lived on toast, kimchi and takeaways). At any other time I’d have felt the awkwardness of this particular domestic triangle (especially with Seunghyun wearing my lover’s clothes, mine all being too small); but as it stood I was simply happy to have them both there.</p><p>“You two should clean your cuts,” Minwoo suggested, taking the opportunity to return Seunghyun’s admiring stare (perv). “There’s a bag of stuff on the table from the hospital. Then we eat.”</p><p>Later Seunghyun went home to hit the books (much to Minwoo’s disappointment), and Kyungho called round. I was in a far better state than before, having confirmed my injuries were mere scratches that wouldn’t mar my pretty face (not that scars aren’t cool, I just didn’t think I had the rugged grandeur to carry them off). Kyungho had newspapers with him.</p><p>“Shit,” I said. “Okay, tell me the worst.” My P.A. huffed at me.</p><p>“There is no ‘worst’. All publicity can be good publicity.”</p><p>“Pull the other one, it’s got bells on!” How could any article, no matter how small, about a show being ruined and its designer going insane be good for their career?</p><p>“No, honestly.” Kyungho spread out the newspapers on the coffee table. “If that ball had crashed at the beginning of the night you might’ve seen less benefit. As it is you’re getting headlines like ‘<em>Explosive End to Unique Fashion Show</em>’. Here, look.” I looked: he was right. The drama of the incident had only made my colleagues keener to write about it, and as there was a decent chance people other than fashion hobbyists would read it they’d been kind to the collection. I saw mentions of ‘successful young designer Kwon Jiyong’ but nothing about me going nuts – only that I’d cried out when the disco ball smashed. They made my show sound <em>cinematic</em>, especially with that sci-fi speech I’d been giving them. Overall it was incredibly (almost suspiciously) nice.</p><p>“Any unflattering cuttings you’re leaving out?” I grilled him. He smiled and shook his head.</p><p>“This couldn’t have come off better for you – I’ve had representatives from stores we’ve not worked with calling, they’re interested in carrying your stuff. Two based in Tokyo, one in Hong Kong.” I exhaled in disbelief: the luck of it! “Not luck,” Kyungho corrected me when I said so. “It’s the pictures.” He shuffled through the pile and opened up one of the tabloids. They’d decided to include photos, and at a glance I could see why.</p><p>“<em>Wow</em>.” There was a full-length of the models walking the runway (Soojoo was in the foreground, being the most famous) and my clothes showed well; a small headshot of me giving my speech (in which I looked slightly like I was about to pee myself but still cute); and the biggest photo, taken with brilliant timing, of Seunghyun crouched above me as fragments of disco ball rained down around us. You couldn’t see much of me, his arms were around me protectively. He looked spectacular: I’d put him back in the silver jacket for the final walk and it gleamed and glittered with mirrored glass shards; I winced as I noticed several of them sticking up out of the fabric, they must have cut him. A trickle of blood was inching down his forehead, and beneath that his eyes glowed blue from the contacts as he glared out towards – well, I knew what he was staring at. If it had been a movie promo poster he couldn’t have looked cooler.</p><p>“Better thank him,” said Kyungho happily. “He’s a natural; his agent’ll be getting calls off the hook.” I laughed, couldn’t help it – never had I thought the paranormal would help Seunghyun book jobs. “We’re demanding an investigation, obviously,” my P.A. continued. I shrugged; they wouldn’t find anything, but if I told them why they’d <em>really </em>think I was crazy. “But I’d say all’s well that ends well!”</p><p>“I guess,” I agreed. But after he’d gone and there was nothing to stop me dwelling again on <em>why</em> this had all happened I began to doubt that was really true: I didn’t feel safe, and I wasn’t confident this <em>would</em> end well. All I could do was get on with my work and wait for Seunghyun and Henry to produce their ‘expert’.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“<em>This</em> is your expert?” I asked. Just to be sure. Henry nodded.</p><p>“Hey,” said Daesung, and beamed at me. Well. I didn’t see <em>that</em> coming.</p><p>Seunghyun and I had had several busy days in which monsters and MIBs didn’t have time to feature. I was (gratefully) reviewing new contracts and production orders for my garments, while Seunghyun was (possibly less gratefully) fielding calls from his agent for numerous modelling jobs. In between I’d written articles about my experience for various publications, as well as the KUFOS incident report Henry demanded from both of us. The ufologist had been filled in by Seunghyun, and was naturally both delighted and acutely envious. The first thing he’d done upon seeing me was extract a promise that I’d invite him and his wife next time I had an event, seeing as so much ‘good stuff’ happened around me. Now here we all were in the favoured SGS bar near Independence Gate, and I was ready to get some <em>answers</em> (and of course to be royally confused). I just hadn’t expected Daesung to be the brain behind them.</p><p>“I thought you were a ghost-hunter,” I said when he’d got the drinks in. It was late, he’d just left his evening performance of <em>Phantom of the Opera</em> and still had grease paint on his nose.</p><p>“I am. That’s my hobby.” Daesung’s eyes crinkled up as he added blithely: “The occult is my <em>lifestyle</em>.” And here I’d thought he was (comparatively) normal! “So.” He necked his G&amp;T and waved it at the bartender for a refill. “What seems to be the trouble?”</p><p>“Post-UFO-encounter Men in Black,” stated Henry with some glee. In an unusual move Daesung didn’t look confused or pull a face like we’d all gone bananas, but instead appeared thoughtful.</p><p>“Secret government?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” said Seunghyun before taking a fervent gulp of Shiraz.</p><p>“And you’re sure it’s not socially challenged ufologists?” Daesung was hiding a smirk behind his glass.</p><p>“That’s how it started,” explained Henry. “SARC – one of ‘em hassled Jiyong. But the rest?” He tapped his ‘official’ (ahem) folder. “Classic entities, ranging from standard repressive MIBs to pure nightmare fuel. And as you know, KUFOS is sadly blinkered on the occult.”</p><p>“Wow.” Our spook-fancying friend took the folder from Henry and flipped through the reports. “Okay, <em>wow</em>. This is extensive.” He glanced up at me. “And you’ve interacted with them too?” I nodded.</p><p>“More often than me,” Seunghyun put in. “Up ‘til recently I thought I was dreaming!”</p><p>“I’m not so surprised,” said Daesung. “Remember the ghost hunt? We never managed to record <em>any</em> phenomena before. Then Jiyong turns up, first go, and <em>bam</em>: audio and video.” He flipped a few more pages. “And now you’re experiencing poltergeist symptoms?” He graced me with a smile that somehow made me think I ought to feel grateful for the privilege. Having endured a whole thirty seconds of not speaking, Henry jumped in again.</p><p>“That’s why I figure we’re dealing with the supernatural – things that’ve made their way in from another space, call it what you will. So we went to magick, there’re echoes of it all over the place; and, if so, I reckon these MIBs might have something to do with Crowley: Enochian entities and all that. And that’s where you come in!” Unlike me, Daesung still didn’t look perplexed.</p><p>“Ahh, you’ve actually been discussing them?” was all he said, pulling a face. We nodded – there’d been no sodding end to our discussions. The barman thrust more drinks at us and beat a quick retreat. “That might’ve been the worst thing you could do. Depending on how you view them. Or maybe not.”</p><p>“Thanks, that’s clear as mud.” I swirled my soju around glumly. Daesung looked chipper as he always did; Seunghyun touched my back comfortingly with his scraped-up fingers. Our band-aids and bandages had come off but his hands were still sore.</p><p>“If these aren’t humans you’re dealing with,” pondered Daesung aloud, “there’re two main theories that could account for them. So let’s explore the simpler one before we jump into bed with Aleister Crowley.”</p><p>“Why?” muttered Seunghyun. “Everyone else did!” Henry overheard and grinned.</p><p>“Theory One.” We settled in. Across the room the bartender looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to be pleased (with all the drinks we were bound to need to get us through this lecture) or despairing (at not having any normal patrons). “Men in Black are entirely a human construct: they exist because over time we’ve <em>willed</em> them into existence.”</p><p>“How?!”</p><p>“Enough focused thought and energy, and above all <em>belief</em>, can make an idea real,” said Daesung.</p><p>“Like the economy,” suggested Seunghyun (part-time political dissident). “It’s not <em>real</em> money, it’s just numbers – but it has power over us ‘cos we <em>accept</em> it does.” Daesung chuckled before coming up with a more relevant example.</p><p>“Some philosophers think that’s what gods are, on a much larger scale – they’ve developed a kind of reality, but only because they were initially created by faith. Maybe that’s what’s happened here: you get enough earnest sci-fi-loving nerds <em>certain </em>they’re being tailed by paranormal creatures in suits, and with the right kind of belief that’s what they end up with.”</p><p>“So they’re…what, a collective delusion?” I hazarded. If I stretched a bit (and with a few more drinks) I could just about wrap my head around that: I was willing to acknowledge that stress and my growing closeness to Seunghyun and his weirdity could have produced some visions that in my unbalanced state seemed real to me.</p><p>“Not exactly. Because once they’re out of our imaginations they seem to have power of their own, and they seem to have autonomy – we can’t control them.” Daesung gestured to the folder. “But you know that better than me.” Henry was nodding.</p><p>“Can they hurt us?”</p><p>“I dunno about physically,” Daesung admitted. “Spiritually, yes. And according to the literature they can <em>scare</em> you into a physical reaction.”</p><p>“That’s what it feels like,” I agreed. Now that I thought about it, not one of those creatures had actually <em>touched</em> me – but the symptoms of their presence had played out on my body as well as my mind.</p><p>“So MIBs aren’t human; but they’re real, and we’re <em>making</em> them,” clarified Seunghyun. “You mean…whatever image was in my head formed itself out of some kind of collective human fantasy and now it’s strolling around Seoul?”</p><p>“Half making them.” Daesung looked like it was far more complicated (of course it bloody was), but unlike Henry managed to summarize. “Perhaps you’re just reinforcing shapes given them by the guys before, the early ufologists who imagined them up in the first place – back in the Fifties. All those passionate novices having encounters with government agents and other UFO investigators, attributing something spooky to it all – they <em>made</em> the MIBs. And us reaffirming with each other that you’ve seen them could merely be solidifying them: the more we talk about them, the stronger they get.” The two ufologists looked at each other.</p><p>“<em>That’s</em> a tulpa,” said Henry happily. I decided I didn’t need to know what that meant.</p><p>“On the other hand,” added Daesung with what seemed a great deal more seriousness, “it <em>could</em> be we’re giving shape to something more mystical – something formless but which is<em> already there</em>, waiting to be let in. And so we come to Theory Two.” Seunghyun perked up: this was just the kind of metaphysical shit that fed into his Unified Theory.</p><p>“Black Lodge!” put in Henry, pumping his fist. “The Secret Chiefs!” Daesung blew out his cheeks in the patented ‘it’s complicated’ face, then nodded.</p><p>“That’s part of it. Maybe. And I know this is gonna be the hardest idea to swallow.”</p><p>“Not for me!” enthused Henry. “All I <em>do</em> is understand the mind-bending world of the Men in Black!” I sighed, finished my wine (we were already three rounds in), then took Seunghyun’s untouched glass from his fascinated hand and drank that too.</p><p>“Okay. Yeah, we’re coming to the genuinely occult now,” Daesung allowed. “And the reason I think Henry might have something with his Crowley idea is…” He turned the investigation folder to aim it at Seunghyun and I. “This.” Looking down I saw Henry’s neatly word-processed report on my Misc. Sights. “A dwarf. A beautiful woman with a red mark around her throat.” Daesung aimed a finger at Seunghyun. “And a creature of incalculable evil: your Tall Man.” Oh, <em>yes</em>, that was what it felt like, that towering stick of a monster. I shuddered, and my glass wobbled against the table; I let go of it quickly and tried to think calming thoughts.</p><p>“What’s the connection?” I asked in a rush. Across from me Henry was literally pressing his lips together to stop himself yelling, which I appreciated: if I had to hear this from anyone, better it come from the reassuring Daesung.</p><p>“When I saw the thread of ‘don’t talk, keep your mouth shut’ running through your encounters with these MIBs, I thought yeah, maybe: if these <em>are</em> dark entities from the other realms of Thelemic magick, that’s exactly their goal – to stifle curiosity and stop us evolving spiritually.”</p><p>“That’s what I said!” chimed in Henry. Indeed he had, at length.</p><p>“But what really clinched it for me were the other creatures Jiyong saw, the ones that seemed so surreal to him. A dwarf that loves music! Know where that stuff comes from?” Only Henry nodded, though not with much conviction. Daesung was getting the other look now, the expression of utter enthusiasm that could only be expressed by shouting, but he was doing a fine job of holding back.</p><p>“Where?” I asked dutifully, very much hoping he wasn’t about to bring up Point Pleasant.</p><p>“Crowley wrote a novel called <em>Moonchild</em>,” said Daesung, “based on real magicians and rituals he knew. He used it to talk about two realities, or realms or dimensions or whatever you want to call them, adjacent to ours. He said entities from both have managed at certain points in history to slip through doors – opened by ritual – into the human world, to influence our destiny.”</p><p>“Destiny,” I parroted.</p><p>“The beings from one realm have tried to liaise with humanity: to elevate us, make us think, make us stretch. Crowley called them, the place they come from, the ‘White Lodge’. They’d be the proverbial ‘good guys’: angels, benevolent aliens like Nordics, that kind of thing. But from the other realm came the entities we know as Men in Black: they’ve popped up throughout history whenever magick creates a rip, basically to fuck with us – to harm our evolution into higher beings.”</p><p>“Yeah, Henry told us.”</p><p>“I’m sure he did.” Daesung and the American gave each other fist-bumps. More drinks were brought. “Anyhow, they and the place they come from are called the ‘Black Lodge’. And in his book Crowley describes what’s <em>in</em> there. I mean, his writing style is bonkers and purposely so, but people have interpreted the creatures that live there as taking the forms of a dwarf surrounded by music, a man of utter evil, a beautiful murdered woman…and so on and so on.”</p><p>“Gosh!” said Seunghyun like a prep-school posh kid. Gosh indeed.</p><p>“And the reason he wrote all this down is that they’re here because of<em> him</em>.” Daesung paused to gulp his drink. “They’d been gone from this dimension for a while ‘til Crowley got involved. My mentor says MIB sightings almost disappeared in the western Enlightenment period ‘cos no-one was actually <em>doing</em> magick anymore. They were studying it and talking about it in overblown ‘secret societies’, but that’s all: logic ruled. Then the twentieth century dawned and along came Crowley, who was a maverick and a total pain in the ass – but he had the balls to actually <em>do</em> the rituals.”</p><p>“Like…he had too much power?” inquired Seunghyun with a frown.</p><p>“Yes and no. He was crazy powerful, no occultist will deny that. But when he was young…perhaps not very wise.” Daesung waved his glass. “We reckon he attempted a really major ritual in the 1910s and only realized partway through that he wasn’t ready. Basically, he opened the door to the Black Lodge by mistake, a few things slipped out, then he slammed it shut. He spent the rest of his life trying to put those things back in.” He gestured to the Misc. folder. “With, as you can see, limited success. If this <em>is</em> what’s going on with you two…then wow. It’s deep!”</p><p>“I’m <em>sure</em> it is!” Some obvious wishful thinking from Henry; he was wriggling in his chair. I couldn’t muster the same delight myself; as Daesung spoke I’d felt the insane information slowly filling me like water fills a balloon: one more bit of mystic mumbo-jumbo and I’d be ready to –</p><p>Daesung’s glass cracked and split into several pieces; they tinkled onto the stained wood table in the sudden silence.</p><p>“Sorry,” I said gloomily, too full and drunk even to be shocked this time. Daesung and Henry were staring at the broken glass in fascination.</p><p>“Look, this has gone too far,” declared Seunghyun, unusually authoritative. “Origins aside, we need to know how to <em>handle</em> it. That’s why we came to you, Dae!”</p><p>“To be honest,” observed Daesung, wiping his fingers dry on a tissue while Henry whipped out his notepad and began making memos, “I thought this kind of thing would make you so excited we’d literally be holding you back!”</p><p>“I <em>am</em> excited. I want to know everything!” A flash of the familiar nerd-Seunghyun broke through at the thought of being the recipient of so many once-in-a-lifetime phenomena; then it was gone and good old self-preservation kicked in. “Or I was. But this stuff’s getting dangerous.” He shot a glance at his cut hands, then at me. His expression softened. “And just as bad, it’s frightening Jiyong. I can’t have that.” Goddammit, how did this doofus always manage to unconsciously say the exact thing I needed to hear – and always at the most inopportune time, when I was too afraid or hyped to fully appreciate it? I hoped my smile conveyed how happy and grateful I was to hear it. Maybe it did: he smiled back reassuringly and set his hand on my knee for a moment.</p><p>“…I need to go home,” I said lamely. My head was pounding, not only from the befuddling topics under discussion but also ‘cos they were using so many English terms my brain was constantly racing to catch up. “If I have to absorb any more crazy I’m gonna overload, and then who’s gonna pay for the broken bottles?”</p><p>“I’ll take you,” offered Seunghyun.</p><p>“I’m staying at Minwoo’s,” I told him in an undertone. While the idea of an escort sounded comforting I thought Seunghyun had done enough for me lately.</p><p>“Then I’ll take you there.”</p><p>“Thanks. Only…please let’s not talk about all this.” I foresaw that was going to be difficult. “You can tell me some nice UFO stories instead.” They seemed positively mundane in comparison.</p><p>“Good,” said Daesung as we dug in our pockets for cash. “Talk about what they don’t <em>want</em> you to talk about; that could be a way to deal with them. I’ll do some homework on how valid the Crowley connection is, and maybe we can figure out what’ll make them leave you alone.”</p><p>We left him and Henry in the bar, sure of themselves and thrilled at coming up with a plan to wage heroic war against the Men in Black (waging heroic war, I would discover, is a paranormal fanboy’s daydream). Fumbling Minwoo’s spare key into his door that night and seeing his artistic, tidy, but very <em>human</em> apartment in my double vision, I felt their occult explanation start to dissolve in the sea of familiar rationality my lover symbolized. And suddenly I’d never been less sure of anything.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Did you figure it out?” asked Seunghyun bluntly as soon as Daesung rocked up to McDonalds. We had a KUFOS meeting after but Seunghyun had requested that we all get together, and I was still too shaken to demand a more highbrow location. “Now <em>I’ve</em> started getting weird phone calls.” By the look of it he hadn’t been sleeping much. My own experiences had continued as normal: unseen eyes on my back, peculiar people catching my attention on the subway before disappearing at the next glance. But I’d kept myself busy with work and had managed to avoid breaking any more stuff.</p><p>“Have you seen those two particular MIBs again?” Henry said with his mouth full of hamburger. “The Tall Man and the big tubby one – the one Jiyong said had no face.”</p><p>“He does have a face,” muttered Seunghyun, shuddering. “Ji was just lucky he didn’t see it.”</p><p>“Well, it was dark in the hall.” I tried to sound reasonable; that was the mood I’d been trying to maintain since I got back to Minwoo’s the other night. “Maybe he <em>is</em> just a creepy stalker or something.”</p><p>“Jiyong.” Seunghyun sounded reproachful. “You know that isn’t true!”</p><p>“I’m just…having trouble with all this,” I confessed. “I only managed to get my head round the idea of the paranormal at all a couple of weeks ago! Magic?” (Fuck that K.) “Demons? It’s too much.”</p><p>“They’re not demons.” Henry again.</p><p>“That depends what you believe,” said Daesung, unwrapping his Big Mac. “And belief is really at the crux of all this. Seunghyun, you asked me if we’ve got an answer – if we have a plan. But it’s not that simple; all we’ve figured out so far is that whatever our strategy is, it’s gotta match what we <em>believe</em>. If we think this MIB activity is being initiated by humans for some suspect purpose, which is what Jiyong seems to wish was true, then all we can do is go to the authorities or try and catch the culprits ourselves.” Seunghyun and Henry shook their heads; I stubbornly ate a french fry. Daesung was right, I <em>wanted</em> it to be that simple. “If it’s tulpas – human-created energy creatures – then the thing to do is train yourselves to quit thinking about them, or at least think of them in a more innocuous way. Then they oughta fade out of your life.”</p><p>“That actually sounds the easiest,” I said.</p><p>“Yeah, but if you don’t <em>believe</em> that’s what’s causing it, it won’t work.” Goddammit. “If we believe we’re dealing with ancient entities crossing realities – and I think three of us are on the same page here – then we have to acknowledge they come from a specific place and were let in by ritual: <em>magick</em>. And, if so, perhaps it’s magick that’s gonna get rid of them.” Seunghyun sighed; then he nodded.</p><p>“You know this is a big step for me, guys.”</p><p>“But thank God it <em>is</em> you,” said Daesung. “No-one in KUFOS but you or Henry would even admit the possibility of the occult getting in the way of their <em>extraterrestrial science</em>. That’s the beauty of you,” he added fondly. “You’ve always believed this stuff is connected.” Henry gave me a significant look.</p><p>“That leaves Jiyong: arguably a catalyst for the paranormal but he doesn’t believe in shit.”</p><p>“What d’you want from me?” I said irritably. “I’m just a guy.”</p><p>“What’s it gonna take to get you on the same page?” None of them looked impatient, only eager to help (i.e. to talk my ear off). It struck me that paranormal dorks are overwhelmingly kind, earnest people; but it didn’t make it any easier to take their theories seriously.</p><p>“I refuse to believe South Korea is a breeding ground for malevolent occult societies,” I told the room. “It’s not like we don’t have enough problems. There’s no modern-day Crowley hanging around prying open doors to any ‘Black Lodge’! So explain to me properly: why’s this happening <em>now</em>, to <em>us</em>?”</p><p>“People <em>do</em> keep opening doors,” countered Daesung. “However much the White Lodge and their human supporters are working to keep them at bay, there’re plenty of occultists who think there’s worldly benefit to be got from allowing the Black Lodge access. The latest big ritual we know of was about forty years ago – but it’s certainly helped the MIBs thrive.”</p><p>“You mean L. Ron Hubbard!” exclaimed Henry, scattering fries. And, at Seunghyun’s disbelieving look: “Yeah, the Scientology guy.”</p><p>“…We’re into cults now?” I said, bemused. This wasn’t helping. I’d heard of the American-born Scientology but knew nothing about it; I did, however, know it was bullshit.</p><p>“I <em>told</em> you assholes these things are all connected!” Henry sounded jubilant. Daesung made a quelling gesture and resumed.</p><p>“It was before he started Scientology. For a while in the Forties Hubbard was <em>deeply</em> into ritual magick. He was working with an American rocket scientist, Parsons – he was also living with him and boinking his girlfriend, which tells you a little something about him – and Parsons was a protégé of Aleister Crowley. A legitimate genius. Anyway, they worked up this huge ritual, saw it through, and it wasn’t ‘til later that Parsons realized they’d been doing it with opposite aims in mind. Parsons was a<em> scientist</em>, he wanted humans to advance, evolve into a new era of knowledge and freedom, and he hoped the ritual would push that along. Hubbard, on the other hand, had zero interest in helping people. Quite the opposite: he used the power to re-open the door of the Black Lodge. Crowley was furious with them when he found out, but it was too late. And Hubbard became an agent of the Lodge, squashing free thought, spreading misinformation and a banal boxed-in view of the world. <em>That’s</em> what cults do – Scientology is the perfect example.”</p><p>“So what happened after?” inquired Seunghyun; we’d all stopped eating to listen. Even I had to admit it was a decent story.</p><p>“Oh, Hubbard ran off with Parsons’ girlfriend and ten thousand dollars of his money in a yacht-flipping scam. Sad, really.” I raised a hand.</p><p>“Are you saying these are the things harassing us now?”</p><p>“It was just an example,” Daesung told me. “But yeah: my mentor says Hubbard was the most powerful black magician of this century, so could be we’re still seeing the entities <em>he</em> brought over.”</p><p>“There was definitely an uptick in weird new cryptids in the Fifties,” Seunghyun contributed. “Not classics like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, really monstrous creepy stuff.”</p><p>“Could be from the same place,” agreed Daesung. “Taking different forms.” That got a smile, Seunghyun always loved that idea. “The MIBs aren’t stuck in the spot where they first came through: these things can shift their look, appear anywhere. And, back to your question, Jiyong, now they’re <em>here</em>.”</p><p>“Thank you! <em>Why</em>?”</p><p>“I think it’s a perfect combination of circumstances, and you two are lucky – or unlucky – enough to have drawn their interest.”</p><p>“Be less confusing!”</p><p>“If you look at the data you’ll see the paranormal crops up at transition points,” posited Henry. “Places where people are passing through, like stations and hotels; where things are changing, like moving into a new house; where <em>people</em> are changing – hence all the poltergeist and teenage girl movies.” Daesung nodded sagely.</p><p>“Contrary to popular opinion,” I reminded them, “I’m not a teenage girl!” Sure, Seunghyun was a man-child but that surely didn’t count either. “So again: why’re these ‘phenomena’ popping up <em>here</em>?”</p><p>“Look around you.” Seunghyun indicated the world outside. “If this isn’t a time of change I don’t know what is. You were there, Ji: in the protests, watching the city boil. We’re on a high-wire of chaos, it’s been building and building and we’re only just this last month starting to find our footing!”</p><p>“…Granted,” I said.</p><p>“Entities are drawn to upheaval,” Daesung explained, taking over seamlessly. “Maybe all the shifting about tears open some kind of local hole and gives them a place to come through <em>here</em>. And now here they are, deliberately adding to the chaos: it’d suit them down to the ground if individual freedom and speech stay stifled.”</p><p>“Fine. Say I agree. Why <em>us</em>?”</p><p>“You saw the UFO,” said Henry simply. I didn’t bother arguing that one anymore. “And bam, you’re targets!”</p><p>“Plus Seunghyun’s been dying to encounter something for years.” Daesung gave him a sympathetic pat. “He’d have been like a bloody <em>beacon</em> for them.”</p><p>“Thanks a bunch.” I nudged him with an elbow. Seunghyun looked worried.</p><p>“There’s also something about margins,” added Henry. “Marginal places, marginal people.” That got me a glance from Seunghyun that made me blush: I’d felt marginal all my life, hadn’t I, right along with him. Only the causes of our outsider status were different – me for who I loved (and must never talk about), Seunghyun for what he loved (and couldn’t <em>quit</em> talking about). Perhaps we were equally responsible for attracting this madness.</p><p>“…Okay,” I said quietly. That last point had struck a chord somewhere inside me. “I get it.” They all looked pleased. I still wasn’t certain, not at all. All the same, it was something.</p><p>“Then to summarize where we are right now,” said Daesung, “can we agree that three of us accept the ‘occult entities’ theory?” Nods. “And that Jiyong is at least not completely opposed to it.”</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>“That’s a start.” Daesung noticed the McDonalds staff eyeballing us, obviously wanting our table. “If the occult got us into this mess, the occult will have to get us out of it. I’ll put my Thelema cap on and look for something that might be within our capacity to actually <em>do</em> – remember, none of <em>us</em> is a Crowley. Henry’s gonna help me, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Try and stop me!” stated Henry, hurriedly finishing off my fries.</p><p>“You two…for now just get on with your lives. Be careful; try not to get yourselves hurt.” Seunghyun and I exchanged glances: a musical amateur magician, two UFO nerds, and a journalist who spent his time writing about New Spring Jackets, all surrounded by fast food wrappers. In terms of battling the dark forces of an evil alternate dimension we were not an inspiring bunch. But now this was my life.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>We should have known there’d be punishment for talking about them, for trying to stop them. Or, more accurately, the other three should’ve known (the extent of my occult knowledge was fleeing the cinema halfway through <em>The Exorcist</em>). But we soon found out.</p><p>I tried to keep things chugging along as normal: work life doesn’t simply <em>stop</em> for black forces from Beyond the Veil. When I got home after my interview two days later (politician’s wife, expensive but boring fashion, for a middle-aged ladies’ magazine – hell, a commission’s a commission) I was surprised as I approached the building to see Seunghyun perched on my front steps. After being confronted with Minwoo (and whatever images of my sex life that had conjured up) he’d taken to calling first when he wanted to come over, so this was strange. And somehow the big ol’ beanpole looked <em>small</em>.</p><p>“Hey,” I greeted him cautiously when I got within earshot. “Were we meant to hang out?” What with the state of my life lately it was no wonder if I lost track of my calendar. Seunghyun raised his head, and in an instant I knew something else had happened: he was terrified.</p><p>“I…” he began. He swallowed, hugging his knees. “I think I got abducted.” In an ordinary situation with an ordinary person this would be an immediate case for the cops, but with Seunghyun you had to make sure. I dropped into a crouch in front of him.</p><p>“Criminals, MIBs or aliens?” I asked briskly.</p><p>“I don’t know! Jesus, it might’ve been a <em>dream</em>,” he admitted, uncertainty colouring his voice. I’d come a long way since the day we first met; now I felt nothing but sympathy for him – the line between nightmares and reality seemed thinner and thinner to me. When I placed my hand on his forearm he was trembling. He took a deep breath. “I need you to check.” What was that supposed to mean? Oh, well, first things first.</p><p>“Come on in.” I unlocked the building door and walked him down the hallway to my apartment; the way he was staring around unnerved me, like he was expecting to see one of those strange men on every corner. “Now tell me what happened. And how I can help.” He took a seat on the sofa at my gesture and accepted a glass of water while I fished around the place for alcohol.</p><p>“I was coming home after today’s shoot,” he began. That was right, he’d booked another job, the clever boy. “I took the bus so I had to walk the last ten minutes. When I got off at my stop it was about 1:30 – I was worn out.” I figured: modelling <em>is</em> tiring, especially when it’s not the joy of your life. Seunghyun reached for my arm before I could locate the booze (was it under the couch?) and pulled me down beside him to make sure I was listening.</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“I woke up in my armchair at 5:20.” His eyes were enormous. “And I don’t remember getting there.” Missing time? Shit – psychologically speaking that sounded serious. I nodded at him to go on. “But,” said Seunghyun, his low voice horrified, “I remember being…someplace else.”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“I don’t know! But there were other people…creatures, I’m not sure…in there with me.” Now his voice was unsteady. “And there was something attached to me!” Mentally I ran over the common alien abduction scenarios I’d heard of involving male ‘test subjects’. They were always weirdly sexual and invasive, and I was beginning to get really worried when Seunghyun added: “In my back. I remember it hurt when they took it out, it felt like…like a needle with a suction cup around it. Fuck, I can’t explain.” He was getting very agitated, so I rubbed his shoulder as if he was a nervous animal.</p><p>“You don’t remember anything else?”</p><p>“No. Just waking up and my back aching.” That could’ve been from falling asleep in the chair, I reasoned silently. But if it was a dream it hadn’t been a normal nightmare; I’d never seen him like this. It had to be coming from <em>them</em>. “Wait,” said Seunghyun, scowling in his effort to recall something. “I think I screamed; and a voice <em>outside</em> the dream said something to me. There was a…a word, maybe, or a sign.” I shrugged and dismissed it – if he didn’t know what it was there was nothing I could make of it.</p><p>“So what can I do?” I asked gently.</p><p>“Check for me.” Seunghyun gestured to his spine. “I looked and couldn’t see any marks, but maybe it’s too small to find in the mirror; or maybe they’re hiding it from me!” Whoever <em>they </em>were supposed to be.</p><p>“Shhh, it’s okay.”</p><p>“If there’s nothing there,” he said pleadingly, “I’ll be able to tell myself it was a dream.”</p><p>“Of course.” He began to pull the hem of his <em>Back To The Future</em> tshirt up, then paused; he’d turned red. Right, he didn’t like people seeing his body, poor guy. I knew this must be bad if he was willing to let me look. “Come on,” I coaxed. I felt terribly sorry for him. Seunghyun’s lips thinned and went pale; then he tugged the shirt over his head in one movement and turned his back on me – but not before I’d seen how perfect he was. I had to stifle a gasp. This certainly wasn’t the time, I told myself, and instead ran my gaze down the strong, smooth line of his back. Only the fading cuts littering his shoulders – and knowing they were my fault – marred that incredible sight. “Where did you feel it?” I asked.</p><p>“At the base of my spine.” His ears were glowing, he must be so uncomfortable. All the same, I was happy and flattered he’d chosen me. Now I had to prove to him that he wasn’t going to regret it.</p><p>“Seunghyun,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could, “you’re gonna have to pull the waistband down a little bit if you want me to look.” He was wearing the high-cut jeans we all favoured at the time and his spine was hidden from the small of his back on downwards. He nodded and reached for his button but I could tell he wasn’t happy about it: the toned line of his shoulders was rigid. “You trust me, right?” That sounded solemn, good.</p><p>“Yah,” agreed Seunghyun quietly, face still turned away. With reluctance he eased down the denim ‘til the two dimples that marked the top of his tailbone were revealed. I knew I’d never forget that sight: just like a statue. I’d have to try, though, or I’d feel guilty about it forever with him so vulnerable. I exhaled in silence.</p><p>“What’m I looking for?” I did my best to sound detached.</p><p>“Uh…I guess any red marks, circles. Just anything that shouldn’t be there.” His skin was smooth and golden, it’d be easy to catch any anomalies. There was nothing to be seen at my current distance so I leaned a little closer and spotted something that looked like a pinkish indentation; then I realized it was where one of the belt-loop seams on his jeans had been pressing into him. I inventoried every inch of his back minutely and didn’t find anything weird. When I told him so Seunghyun made an uncertain noise, as if he’d been absolutely sure I would.</p><p>“I can get a magnifying glass,” I offered.</p><p>“Um. Could you touch me?” I felt my own cheeks flare up and was glad he wasn’t facing me. Seunghyun reached behind him and prodded a place low on his spine with his thumb. “Around here, that’s where it aches. Maybe you can feel something. I’m getting paranoid,” he added sensibly. “I don’t think I can judge for myself.”</p><p>“Okay.” I bit my tongue to focus my attention, stretched out my hand and gently set the tips of my fingers to the spot he’d indicated. For a second I registered nothing but warm flesh and muscle; his skin shivered briefly under my touch, then settled. I brushed the digits in a comprehensive back-and-forth pattern over his spine. Smooth, flawless, only the faint contours of his vertebrae giving me anything different. My index finger passed across the centre of his back and I paused: was that a tiny divot? No, I decided firmly, leaning in to look. There was nothing to be seen, and I wasn’t going to tell Seunghyun when it was almost certainly my own imagination and paranoia. “Nothing but nature,” I told him firmly. Seunghyun let out a tremulous breath.</p><p>“…It was a dream.” He finally turned to face me; his eyes were wet. “Fuck. I’m an idiot.”</p><p>“You were tired,” I reassured him, getting up and turning my back so he could pull his tshirt on. “So you forgot the walk home. You dropped off in your chair and had a nightmare. I don’t blame you, either.”</p><p>“It felt so <em>real</em>.” He sounded mystified. “Even with the Tall Man I’ve never had a dream like that.” I retreated to the kitchen and finally located a bottle of soju. “Maybe it <em>was</em> an abduction, a psychedelic one – maybe the MIBs are getting at me in my sleep now!” I sat down beside him again and shrugged, feeling helpless: at this point I wasn’t prepared to rule anything out. The stuff Daesung had told us sounded unbelievable, but so were some of the things that’d been happening – this latest event included. It felt as though it was <em>meant</em> to cause him distress, and that was what made me think it was a punishment. “Or maybe…” continued Seunghyun in a small voice. “Maybe I’m going mad.” I think he was almost as scared of that as he was the Men in Black.</p><p>“If you’re going mad,” I told him as I uncapped the bottle and took a bracing swig, “so am I. It’s <em>not</em> just you seeing this shit, Seunghyun.” Time to say the words I’d never thought I would say: “And I believe you. I don’t know what all this is, but I know it’s <em>something</em> – and I know it’s real.” Seunghyun turned his head to stare at me, those huge eyes with their ridiculous lashes wide and amazed. I passed him the bottle; he put it down on the table and stretched out one hand to clasp my arm. He did trust me – and he knew me. He knew how hard that had been for me to admit, and maybe…well, who could say what else he knew about me in that moment?</p><p>“…I’m glad we met,” said Seunghyun, his lovely face solemn. He wiped his eyes and attempted a laugh. “Although I imagine at this point you’d have trouble saying the same.” In a matter of milliseconds the salient points of our acquaintance flashed through my brain: the exasperation, pity, and now our shared fear – all balanced out by my sheer affection for his perfect beauty and his imperfect but extraordinary mind; the way nothing in the world would ever be the same again – because of <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Well, you’re nothing but trouble,” I agreed; I reclined against him, felt daring enough to lean over and kiss his cheek; he blushed. “But I can’t imagine not having you around.” Seunghyun’s face broke into an exquisite smile. As usual it was aimed bashfully at the floor; when he at last turned it on me I was sure it could warm me even in the cold vastness of space.</p><p>At that moment I knew beyond a doubt that I loved him.</p><p> </p><p>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So a quick recap on the different theories (including one or two I didn’t write about here) of what the Men in Black are, for people who skimmed the last couple of chapters:</p><p>1) Secret government agents<br/>2) Tulpas (energy creatures born from humans’ concentrated belief)<br/>3) Dark entities from another dimension (Crowley theory)<br/>4) Time Cops (yes, really)<br/>5) Socially awkward nerds mistaking each other for MIBs</p><p>You can take your pick as to which you think is the most likely ^^;</p><p>Btw, that story about L.Ron Hubbard is completely true (according to Jack Parsons and Aleister Crowley, at least). What a batshit lying cultist asshole!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong and Seunghyun take a detour they weren't expecting...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So as usual, top of this chapter comes obligtory learn-about-the-occult session (I think number 3) - this time, synchronicities ^^<br/>Then some more strange happenings, liddle bitty bit of cuteness :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It all makes sense!” cried Daesung, leaping from his seat as he caught sight of us. After Seunghyun’s meltdown I’d called an emergency meeting, and now all of us (except Henry, who was doing something husbandly and was wise enough not to try and wriggle out of it) were back in the SGS bar.</p>
<p>“What does?” Seunghyun asked eagerly. Daesung had listened with great care and some worry to Seunghyun’s abduction story over the phone while I posted our KUFOS reports to Henry. I think we were both relieved to put the problem in someone else’s hands, and were looking forward to them making this <em>go away</em>.</p>
<p>“Nothing!” The younger man reseated himself and, apparently aware he’d been acting like Henry, folded his hands in front of him. “I mean, I haven’t found a solution yet – but now I know I’m <em>meant</em> to. I’m meant to be in on this!” He leaned down and began to fumble in his bag while Seunghyun and I exchanged glances. Not that I was unwilling to have help, and of course we were grateful as always that he believed us; but no way could I handle any more esoteric information. “Here.” Daesung produced a Walkman and headphones.</p>
<p>“What’s this?”</p>
<p>“Remember the night we met,” he said to me. “The recordings we got in the haunted hanok?” Theoretically yes, though I only had Seunghyun’s over-excited word for it. I shrugged. Daesung turned from me to his friend (where he was sure of a decent response). “There was only one phrase we could really pick up.”</p>
<p>“What was it again?” asked Seunghyun, already motioning for the headphones. It never ceased to astonish me, the ability of a good haunting or sighting to take his mind off his troubles; I almost envied him. “‘Love can kill’?” Oh right. Yeah. Pretty hokey, I’d thought at the time, and I could tell Daesung agreed because he flapped his hand and retorted:</p>
<p>“That’s what Leader Hong thought. The geezer’s half deaf. What <em>I</em> heard was ‘Love and Will’!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that was it. Lemme listen.” Daesung gave him the Walkman and he put one headphone to his ear, beckoning me over. If I got my face up close to his I could listen to the other one. Seunghyun turned the volume dial right up and pressed Play. There was a crackle, and in the background the sound of voices I immediately pegged as the SGS members shushing each other. Then another voice, three indistinct words; it wasn’t exactly quiet but sounded as if it was coming from a long way away – and it sounded <em>female</em>.</p>
<p>“Hear it?” said Daesung, on tenterhooks.</p>
<p>“I hear it.” Seunghyun was smiling, the dork. I took the headphones and put them over my ears properly.</p>
<p>“Rewind. I wanna listen again.” The second time…well. Maybe. Could be anything really, but a willing mind might interpret those words the same way Daesung had. “Okay, I’ll buy it.” Daesung beamed. “Only…what does this tell you about <em>us</em>?”</p>
<p>“It’s about keywords!” He took a triumphant sip of his coffee. “And Crowley. <em>There’s</em> my link.”</p>
<p>“I thought this tape was about a ghost girl.”</p>
<p>“It was,” Daesung told us. “And now it’s a synchronicity – a <em>sign</em>.” We both stared at him, expectant. “I think there are small things – coincidences – repeating themselves throughout this experience,” he went on. “Probably since the two of you met. Neither of you had anything paranormal happen before that, right? However much Seunghyun wanted it. So obviously you each bring something that when combined create the necessary conditions for phenomena to manifest.”</p>
<p>“Like what?” I demanded. Of all the far-fetched possibilities I’d been fed so far, the idea that Seunghyun and I might have some profound karmic connection was easily the most palatable to me. Sadly, it sounded too good to be true.</p>
<p>“No idea! But is there anything – symbols or concepts or words – that you’ve noticed pop up while you’ve been together? For me it’s references to Thelema, Crowley’s system – that’s my connection. I dunno about Henry’s. How about you?” We sat and drank and thought. I was having trouble: journalist or not, humans aren’t that retentive; I’d have to go through my notes. Seunghyun, on the other hand, was trained to make mountains out of molehills.</p>
<p>“The moon,” he suggested. “That’s all I can think of.”</p>
<p>“Significant occult symbol,” observed Daesung. I frowned.</p>
<p>“The first night we were up Seoraksan you were talking about it.” Seunghyun threw me a fond glance. “You were amazed by how it looked through binoculars. And remember the hanok – again? The ‘white light’ in the courtyard, it was all that made you feel comfortable.” God, did he remember everything I’d ever said to him? It was flattering, really, and gave me a moment of warmth.</p>
<p>“Moonlight. It was like day out there.” I racked my brain, then laughed. “Hey, remember the cave? You saw some wiggedy symbol in the rock where the closed-off part begins, and I said it looked like a big moon.”</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>. And of course…” I knew what he meant. Daesung was making encouraging hand movements (much as my English teacher used to when she was desperate to drag one coherent sentence out of me). Fortunately I <em>did</em> know enough English to make this connection.</p>
<p>“That MIB. Moon…whoever, his name keeps changing in my mind. And the ‘business card’ he gave me.” Seunghyun looked solemn.</p>
<p>“D’you still have it?” asked Daesung eagerly. I dug in my wallet – I’d pushed the card in behind some store memberships I barely used, but because of its weird shape it’d ended up dog-eared. I pulled it out – and stared. “What?” said Daesung.</p>
<p>“It’s changed again.” The two men leaned forward to peer at it. I threw it down on the table, it still gave me that dirty, prickly feeling. It was no longer the fridge magnet ad for a local tradesman it had transformed into after I encountered the MIB. It was regular cardstock again, only now the full moon in the corner had grown to cover the entire surface. The tiny spot that I’d been so sure was a spaceship had grown too, and it was –</p>
<p>“Whoa.” Daesung grabbed the card and brought it to his face, squinting; his little eyes went wide and he thrust it at Seunghyun. “What does this look like to you?!” Seunghyun pushed his glasses up his nose (way to ask the most myopic of the three of us) and stared as if he was at the optician’s.</p>
<p>“It’s a number.” I leaned in to look too. His shampoo smelled nice, like mint. “I think…93?”</p>
<p>“Yeah…yeah, I think so too.” Daesung put the card down very carefully between us, as if it might explode. “That is…interesting. In light of what I was just saying.”</p>
<p>“It used to be a spacecraft,” I reminded them; or at least I thought it had been. Seunghyun was right, it <em>was</em> a number, either 93 or 98.</p>
<p>“And now it’s 93,” said Daesung, thoughtful. Abruptly he socked Seunghyun in the arm. “The most significant number in Thelema!” Beside me Seunghyun made a pained but interested noise. I pursed my lips – <em>that</em> again.</p>
<p>“Significant how?” inquired Seunghyun.</p>
<p>“Numerology,” the budding occultist replied, waving one hand. “Keywords, remember?! It’s like, a code for finding hidden meaning. In Thelema every English or Greek or whatever letter gets assigned a number, so you can look at a word and add up the numbers, and some numbers turn up a lot more than others – and those words are significant. It’s very complicated.” I sighed: guess I was supposed to have studied Maths as well as English to get the hang of this. “My mentor’s tried it with hangul too but it gets really involved.”</p>
<p>“So, 93?” Seunhyun reminded him. I glared at the damn card; I wished I’d never accepted it. Daesung was eyeing it in some amazement.</p>
<p>“Right. Well, you know Crowley’s famous rule.”</p>
<p>“Pretend I don’t,” I said crossly. Seunghyun gave me an anxious smile; of course <em>he</em> did.</p>
<p>“‘<em>Do as thou wilt shall be the whole of the law</em>’.” Hmm. That did sound familiar, probably from some movie. “Thelema’s number one teaching, even nerds like me who don’t know about magick know that one.” Sounded like Aleister Crowley had (if Henry’s characterization was to be believed) written himself a nice justification for banging whoever he liked whenever he liked. If so I had to give the guy props, but it seemed a bit sketchy to found an entire mystic system on.</p>
<p>“Fundamentally,” explained Daesung, going into the Teacher mode I was so used to from Seunghyun, “it means any adult should be able to live the way they want, do what they want, as long as it involves other consenting adults and doesn’t harm anyone.”</p>
<p>“Sounds kinda nice,” I commented. Seunghyun glanced down at the table; perhaps that’d come off too wistful. We’d never spoken about his discovery that I was gay (and I couldn’t figure out how to feel about that), but it was obvious it hadn’t slipped his mind.</p>
<p>“Yeah, if you follow it right. But it’s not just a lifestyle guide; it’s also a basic principle for making magick happen.” Daesung reached for Seunghyun’s ever-present notepad and pen. “The next line of that rule, which hasn’t made it into mass circulation, is: ‘<em>Love is the law, love under will</em>’.” He wrote the English words ‘love’ and ‘will’, noting the Korean translation underneath for my monolingual ass. “See? See?! The ghost’s message make <em>sense</em> to you now?”</p>
<p>“Love and Will…” I echoed. I had to admit, that gave my spine a tingle in light of this talk about <em>signs</em>.</p>
<p>“Love?” said Seunghyun, evidently puzzled, as if this was an absolutely left-field concept.</p>
<p>“Yeah, love.” Daesung gave us one of his all-encompassing smiles. “He believed those are the two key elements that need to work together – through ritual – to make change in the world. And that change is what we call magick.”</p>
<p>“That sounds very…hippie,” I observed. And sort of nice, but rather too happy-clappy for what I expected from the occult set.</p>
<p>“Well, half Crowley’s rituals involved sex,” Seunghyun pointed out, blushing adorably. “So is ‘love’ just code for fucking?” The other man laughed.</p>
<p>“You can interpret it like that. But it’s supposed to be that sex is the method of expressing love – it’s how Thelemites <em>perform</em> love in rituals. You can just as well do them without, though.” Briefly I allowed myself the treat of imagining an erotic, intimate sex spell with guess-who. Then I coughed, the last thing I needed was to pitch a tent in the middle of all this.</p>
<p>“Weren’t we talking about the moon?” I reminded them. “And this damn card. What’s all this got to do with 93?”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah.” Above the words ‘Will’ and ‘Love’ Daesung wrote two more foreign words. “The Greek for ‘will’ is ‘Thelema’,” he told us. “Human will: the most powerful force in the world if you use it right. The Greek for ‘love’ is ‘Agape’. If you do the whole numbers game on each of those words the letters add up to 93. A bunch of other keywords do, too – that’s why it’s the most important number.”</p>
<p>“…But what does it <em>mean</em>?” I pleaded. More importantly, what did it mean for <em>us</em>?</p>
<p>“That’s why I said it was interesting.” Daesung paused. “It’s obviously a synchronicity, but…I’m not sure. For most of his life Crowley was working <em>against</em> the Black Lodge – trying to keep that door shut. Why would this number appear on an item given you by a MIB? If it’s true that this Moon guy is an entity directly opposed to human wisdom and curiosity and advancement, why would he put such a very fascinating number on his card? Or did <em>something else</em> change the card to challenge him?”</p>
<p>“God knows! It’s not like me or Seunghyun would’ve had any idea what it meant.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Daesung significantly. “But <em>I</em> did. And maybe Henry would. And I’m the one who got the ghost audio. Yeah, you can say I just interpreted it as Love and Will ‘cos I’ve got magick on the brain. Doesn’t matter: still a synchronicity. Henry recognized the Crowley connection in this whole thing, and I’m the one who had it confirmed! But who confirmed it for us? What’s <em>our</em> role in all this? If we keep helping you, who – or what – are we really working for?”</p>
<p>“Ugh.” Seunghyun rubbed his arms. “Just gave me chills.” I shuffled my chair a bit closer to him; he looked grateful.</p>
<p>“…I think this is above my paygrade,” admitted Daesung. He tapped the card. “Mind if I show this to my mentor? Maybe he can make it all a bit less…bizarre.”</p>
<p>“Knock your socks off.” I didn’t want the bloody thing anywhere near me, not after this latest change. Daesung picked it up gingerly and put it in his own wallet.</p>
<p>“Well,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he sounded excited or scared, “looks like magick’s the key to your sci-fi story after all – whether you like it or not.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>I thought back on the whole affair later, at home with the TV on to keep the silence at bay; the news was playing the usual depressing footage but at least it was familiar. Slowly I picked through my notes, the weird occurrences I’d written down and the ones I hadn’t thought to, looking for more significant coincidences. To be honest I was hoping not to find any, and when I did I couldn’t tell if I felt elated or sick. It was nothing dramatic, nothing screenworthy: just hints. The hanok again – fuck. I remembered the graffiti in the storehouse, not the random slurs and slogans but the almost obsessive-compulsive littering of numbers; 69, I remembered laughing at that one like a schoolboy; 31; and goddamn <em>93</em>. Jesus, was Daesung right? Was it simply one number in a random set sprayed by a lunatic? Or did the other numbers have some occult significance too? I made a note to ask him sometime.</p>
<p>At last I had to stop – everything had begun to seem meaningful, important, and it couldn’t be. Black swans on the lake? Not everything black had to be connected to MIBs! I told myself. How the hell did paranormal people separate ‘synchronicities’ from their own impressive paranoia? Of course I called Seunghyun to ask, and found him in much the same state I was, seeing signs in every memory.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he said once we’d compared increasingly hysterical notes. “Switch off for the night! We’re gonna go nuts.” <em>Too late for some of us already</em>, I thought, but my heart wasn’t in the insult. “I’m gonna take a bath and watch <em>Forbidden Planet</em>. Call your boyfriend or something, relax. We can recalibrate tomorrow.” I had an urge to inform Seunghyun that Minwoo wasn’t <em>exactly</em> my boyfriend, but didn’t wanna shock him with the swinging nature of my ultra-gay relationship. And he was trying (for once) to give me decent advice.</p>
<p>“Sure, good idea. Can I come by the bookstore tomorrow?”</p>
<p>“Anytime,” said Seunghyun. “Come to me anytime – there’s nothing more important than fighting this together.” He sounded almost <em>happy</em>; and as I hung up the phone I had the vivid conviction that, if there was one thing among Daesung’s synchronicities that was truly meaningful, it was indeed the idea of <em>love</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As per Seunghyun’s suggestion I arranged to see Minwoo that night, leaving my notebook in my desk and letting him distract me with dinner and a very confusing Spanish movie. And sex, of course: for all the mildly aggravating aspects of our relationship, that was always good. I felt much better once I was in bed with Minwoo; he was pleased, I think, that I was so eager to see him, touch him (his reassuring solidity), and have him hold me. We chatted for a bit afterwards, about the progress of our respective collections and when we might both be free for our trip to Guam. I hedged on that, not wanting to gallivant off to tropical climes ‘til I knew something was being done about my paranormal problem. Minwoo sighed at me and turned out the light. Cuddling against him, I soon fell asleep.</p>
<p>I didn’t know why I woke, or what time it was. It was very dark, only a dim wash of ambient light edging through the fabric of the curtains. I was uncomfortable: did I have to piss? No, that wasn’t it. It was… I took a breath and held it as a feeling came over me, slow but inescapably chilling: that it <em>wasn’t Minwoo</em> in the bed behind me. I wasn’t sure why I thought so; perhaps the arm across my hip felt different, that was all. Nevertheless, my heartrate skyrocketed and I began to sweat, prickly and hot – I was so <em>certain</em>. And I couldn’t bring myself to roll over and look. So I just lay there while the conviction grew and my breaths shortened, becoming audible in the dark. I thought about leaping out of bed and fleeing the room, the whole apartment, or at least pretending to get up and casually fetch a glass of water. But I didn’t do a thing.</p>
<p>I couldn’t hear anything behind me: nothing bad, nothing comforting. No snoring; no breathing. There was enough light coming through the curtains; if I looked I’d know. This was unbearable, if I lay here like this a minute longer I’d go mad, if I wasn’t already! I clenched my fists and bit down on my lip to stifle a whine of fear – then <em>onetwothree</em>, I flipped myself over.</p>
<p>“…Wfft?” said Minwoo blearily, half waking. There he was, slowly greying hair, yuppie moustache. I wanted to hit him, I was so relieved! All this spooky shit was getting to me, Daesung and Henry and their magical hoo-ha; I really had to learn to compartmentalize when I wasn’t with them. Instead I gave Minwoo a kiss and he went right off to sleep. I got up and removed my tshirt – I’d sweated right though it – got my drink of water, and went back to bed on autopilot; I was gonna be useless tomorrow. My eyes were drifting closed when through the curtains I noticed the vague silhouette of a man pass the window. I didn’t think anything of it, people traipsed past my place to get to theirs all the time: my building’s walkway on a weekend night was practically a party zone.</p>
<p>I was on the very edge of sleep when my eyes slammed open with the realization: I wasn’t <em>at</em> my apartment, I was at Minwoo’s! And there was nothing outside his bedroom window but eight storeys of empty air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I couldn’t sleep a wink after that; I didn’t feel safe there. So I crept out of Minwoo’s room (turning on every light as I went and checking all the curtains were closed) and called Seunghyun. He picked up after only five rings; like myself, I guessed he was sleeping light nowadays. What I was expecting him to do I don’t know. Perhaps I only wanted to hear his voice, to tell him what I’d seen and get some reassurance it wasn’t my imagination – Minwoo wouldn’t believe me. Who would?</p>
<p>“You want me to come get you?” said Seunghyun instantly, and I could have wept with relief.</p>
<p>“I can just come to yours,” I whispered.</p>
<p>“After that? No way are you walking around in the dark outside! Keep watch, I’ll pick you up.” Okay; I didn’t have to be brave. I thanked him quietly and he hung up. While I was waiting I got my things together and wrote a vague note for Minwoo. How long would it take Seunghyun? Not long at this time of night. The idea of looking out of the window for him unnerved me: what if I saw something?</p>
<p>He didn’t ring the bell but knocked softly at the door so as not to wake my lover. I paused before opening it (Minwoo didn’t have a peephole), then remembered what Daesung had said about the power of will. And God knew I could be a stubborn asshole – time to use a bit of that fortitude. I held my breath and unlocked the door.</p>
<p>“Hey,” said Seunghyun in an undertone. He was still in his sleep-wear and was peering around anxiously: neither of us wanted to linger. We rode the elevator down and jogged for his car huddled close together; once we were inside we locked the doors. “Anything else happen?” he asked, starting the engine. I felt myself relax as we drove away.</p>
<p>“No. But whatever it was, it wanted me scared.”</p>
<p>“We can be scared together.” I gave him a wry smile – some comfort! Seunghyun curled one corner of his expressive mouth up. There was little else we could do ‘til Daesung and Henry sorted themselves out.</p>
<p>There were roadworks on the edge of Dongdaemun and the direct route to Seunghyun’s place was blocked. Seunghyun sat at the traffic signal, face bathed in flashing orange lights.</p>
<p>“…Those weren’t here half an hour ago,” he said slowly.</p>
<p>“There’s always construction at night,” I pointed out.</p>
<p>“But they’d have set it up during the day, not in the dark.”</p>
<p>“Think it means something?” I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. Seunghyun shrugged, frowning. When we got past the temporary lights we found ourselves given the choice of two diversions signalled by luminous road signs. Looking to the left I could see a queue of night traffic, mostly taxis, waiting for us. To the right the road was clear. And dark. “Which way’s quicker?” Seunghyun nodded to the right.</p>
<p>“That’s the only route I know. The left…actually I have no idea where that goes.” It should have been a no-brainer that he’d take the right fork, but instead we sat there dithering. At last Seunghyun set his handsome jaw and began to signal right; immediately my shivers began again. As he flipped his indicator on there was the blare of a horn behind us, and a hasty taxi edged round us and up the kerb to turn left. I glared after it – impatient bastard – then smacked Seunghyun to make him look: on the yellow-and-blue colours of the cab’s license plate was the number ‘93’. Seunghyun swore under his breath.</p>
<p>“What do we do?!” I exclaimed. “Follow it or not?” My companion cast a glance back down the clear road to the right; if what we wanted to do was get home and get safe we oughta be taking it without hesitation. He hesitated.</p>
<p>“Daesung would call this a synchronicity,” he said wildly. “Would he say pursue it?”</p>
<p>“Henry would.” The cab was gaining distance, although it would have to stop any moment to join the line of traffic caused by the diversion. It looked congested but the tail-lights of the cars were bright, and right now the idea of some light seemed pretty welcome. “Take the left-hand path!” I decided. Seunghyun surprised me with a bark of laughter; then he hit the accelerator and swung the car round to follow the taxi. “What?”</p>
<p>“Guess we have no choice,” he told me as we sped up to catch it.</p>
<p>“How’s that?” The cab had stopped in line and we soon caught it. We both stared at the familiar number on its back bumper; Seunghyun was clutching the steering wheel as if it was the only thing stopping him from simply floating away.</p>
<p>“…The ‘Left-hand Path’ is another name for Crowley’s kind of magick.” I watched the taxi with wide eyes and considered this.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know that.”</p>
<p>“No, you wouldn’t, I don’t think Daesung explained it.” He exhaled through his nose. “Which I guess makes it even more significant; why else would you say it like that?”</p>
<p>“…I dunno.” The queue inched forward. “Look, d’you really think we should be doing this?” Shivers or not, the dark road seemed sort of the lesser of two evils now. “After what happened earlier?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Seunghyun parroted. “But there’s something going on here – a message, maybe. And if so I think the guys need us to hear it.” After some thought I nodded; it wasn’t as if I’d be able to sleep again anyway. Besides, here we were in the line. As we crawled forward, however, the strange taxi pulled out from among the other cars and turned left again into a lane so narrow it didn’t even look like a real road. Seunghyun and I stared at each other. Fuck it: we <em>were</em> on a path. So we followed.</p>
<p>“Where are we?” I asked five minutes later, having tailed the cab through a maze of back streets. He shook his head.</p>
<p>“If I’ve been here I don’t recognize it.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel; his grasp was looser now, as if he’d surrendered himself to the experience. I was reminded of the fact that this was the sort of thing he’d spent his life wishing he could be involved in – more fool him. “You know something else odd?” he said.</p>
<p>“Now what could be odder than this?”</p>
<p>“93 is a truck license number. Cabs don’t go higher than 69.” Hah. A much better figure.</p>
<p>“That’s…weird.” I chewed on my lip. “You think it’s a real cab at all?”</p>
<p>“…At this point,” said Seunghyun slowly, “I’m not sure it’s a real <em>anything</em>. Do you even see a driver?” I peered through the back window for the telltale hunched silhouette.</p>
<p>“No.” And yet we followed.</p>
<p>We’d been tracking the mystery cab so long I began to see a faint glow sliding down the buildings: we were entering the dawn hours. I hadn’t spotted another vehicle for ages, nor a pedestrian. There was only me and Seunghyun and whatever was in front of us. We finally emerged from the back streets and found ourselves in an old but broad-ish road with no traffic. The taxi started down it and we dutifully continued after; there was a high brick wall on our right and I couldn’t see any street signs. Then the car turned – and disappeared.</p>
<p>“Oh!” I think I said cleverly. Seunghyun accelerated and skidded after it, hitting the brakes hard at the corner to avoid crashing into a bollard. We found ourselves stopped in the entrance to what looked like a park. The taxi had gone – <em>where</em> I couldn’t imagine – and the sun was about to come up. Seunghyun sat and gawped at the scene for a long moment.</p>
<p>“Where did it…” he began.</p>
<p>“Dunno. Where even<em> are</em> we?” It was very quiet. When Seunghyun opened the driver’s door I could hear the faint sound of birdsong; a rush of pleasantly cool air hit me. I could smell flowers again, the same as that first night – and that’s when I was sure this was someplace <em>different</em>. Seunghyun crunched across the manicured gravel to the open gate.</p>
<p>“There’s a sign here,” he called softly. I clambered out and joined him, looking around warily: I didn’t trust anything about this whole night. It was a fancy-looking plaque, nothing like what you got in the municipal parks at my end of town. In hangul, English and hanja it read simply: ‘White Park’. I peeked through the gate: it <em>was</em> white. It looked big, and pretty, more like a private estate’s garden than a public facility. The sky beyond the wall was fading from dark blue-grey to violet, with a warm tint illuminating the trunks of the cherry trees that told me we were heading towards the sunrise.</p>
<p>“White Park,” said Seunghyun, thoughtful. “Wanna go in?” So he thought it looked nice too. That made me suspicious. He sounded calm, as he had since we made the choice to turn left.</p>
<p>“If we do…are <em>we</em> gonna disappear?”</p>
<p>“Only one way to find out.” Seunghyun took a deep breath and grabbed my hand, strong fingers curled around mine. Just like the first time on Seoraksan I was pleased with how it looked, how it felt; and in that moment of distraction my inquisitive idiot friend drew me through the gate. We gazed at each other, waiting breathlessly for something to happen. “Still here,” said Seunghyun after a short silence. He smiled and released my hand.</p>
<p>“Okay. For now.” We wandered a little further through the sweet-smelling trees, somehow still blooming with white flowers long past their season, and came upon a smooth expanse of mossy velvet-like grass. <em>Screw it</em>, I thought, and sat down: I was exhausted. If the fairies (faeries? Stupid occult spellings) wanted to come take us away they could go ahead and try. Seunghyun joined me; without saying anything we lay back. The grass was cool and the air warm. If this <em>was</em> a MIB illusion or an alternate dimension or whatever esoteric explanation Daesung might give, it was a rather pleasant one. For the first time since the bridge and the sighting I found myself able to simply pause, think clearly, and take in the natural world around me. It was an intensely peaceful feeling. Beside me Seunghyun sighed.</p>
<p>“That was a really weird night,” he said sleepily. “Wish I’d had the video camera.”</p>
<p>“And it’s shaping up to be a pretty bizarre morning.” I meant it; but at the same time I was quite content to lie there, my hand just brushing his. A magpie darted past in a flash of black and white, and the sky turned gold. The moon was still riding high above us but now the sun was coming up to join it. This was without doubt a strange, even eerie place – because it felt so harmless: like this was the last place in the world (if that was where we were) that could contain a spacecraft or Men in Black or mysterious energies rearranging my kitchen cupboards.</p>
<p>“This is probably a dumb idea,” Seunghyun began. Almost certainly. “But…you wanna just get some sleep? Feels like…I dunno…I could actually <em>relax</em> here.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” I said. Right away. Because we were supposed to. I wanted to kiss him then; if there was any place in any dimension where I might be brave enough to do that, I felt it would be here in this serene white Eden. I leaned up on my elbow to look at him – it would be so easy. And Seunghyun was kind, surely he wouldn’t mind; he was smiling at me, and in a way I’d never seen before. But my worries added to the years of caution got the best of me, and I didn’t. Vaguely I felt as if I’d missed something – missed a chance. Still, I was so sleepy the sensation quickly faded. We lay blinking drowsily at that beautiful garden, and gradually dropped out of the waking world altogether.</p>
<p>When we woke up we were in Seunghyun’s Presto, hot and cramped and in a liquor store carpark five minutes from his apartment.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>I spent the afternoon at his place writing it all down. What else was I meant to do? I was completely ruined for the day; and I had the feeling that if I didn’t record it now that whole fantastical night would fade away like the dream it might well have been. Where had we gone? What had led us there? What would’ve happened if we’d turned <em>right</em>? Once I’d got it down I remembered to call Minwoo, who was probably (and correctly) concerned. Either he wasn’t in or he was pissed at me, so I left a message on his machine. Seunghyun went to work: a pretty amazing feat, but if he got fired Daesung would scold us for not acting ‘normal’. Once I was done I trudged home to change (I didn’t fancy wearing Seunghyun’s old Ramones tshirt all day even if it did smell like him) and type up a neat report on the word processor – I was pretty sure there’d be someone wanting it soon.</p>
<p>As it turned out, ‘soon’ meant that very evening. I’d just washed my hair (I was planning an early night as Minwoo was indeed sulking at being left high and dry with his morning wood), and was applying face cream when my buzzer rang in the characteristically gung-ho way that told me a ufologist was on the other side. I pressed the button to let them in the building and opened up my door to find Seunghyun with Henry in tow.</p>
<p>“Just…come in,” I said, resigned to my stylish apartment being turned into a KUFOS satellite (which goes to show how far I’d come). Henry took his sneakers off and walked in, surveying my decor with approval before helping himself to a seat in the living room. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” I suggested, though less snippily than I once would have. Seunghyun gave me a quick hug to make up for the redhead’s manners, which it did. As a paranormal-group host I knew what was required of me: I produced liquor, snacks, and my report (in order of importance). Henry grabbed the latter.</p>
<p>“Thank Christ you can type, Tabi’s writing is illegible.” Seunghyun moved along the designer couch, making room for me while pulling a face at his friend.</p>
<p>“We don’t all have a super-computer in our house like you.”</p>
<p>“A typewriter, at least!” Henry said distractedly. Then he shut up and read, and I made the most of the (temporary) quiet to ask about Seunghyun’s day. He seemed a little spaced-out still, you could see it in the soft spread of his pupils and the careful way he moved. Perhaps I looked the same: I caught him peeping at my face every few seconds as if he recognized something there. I’d spent all day trying to capture the atmosphere of that bright garden, to make the feeling linger. Maybe I’d succeeded. I had the impression that he and I were sharing a moment, connected in a deeper way than usual by a silver web of memory.</p>
<p>“Y’know, this is really well written,” piped up Henry with a mixture of surprise and admiration.</p>
<p>“Course it is,” I told him irritably; he’d made the sensation vanish, as if a bubble had burst and thrown me back into the humdrum world of work and responsibility and worrying about the Black Lodge. “I’m a writer!”</p>
<p>“So…I mean…<em>evocative</em>. The shadow at the window and the white park and all.”</p>
<p>“Thanks a lot.” How highly did I value the praise of a Californian paranormal fanatic?</p>
<p>“It is good,” agreed Seunghyun, now checking it over. “You got the facts and you still managed to capture the <em>feeling</em> of it all.” His eyes went distant again, and I knew he’d gone back to that place along the bridge of my carefully chosen words. I wanted to join him. “Mine as well as yours.”</p>
<p>“You oughta send this to the newspapers!” Henry suggested, more enthused than ever (if he got any louder my next-door ahjumma was gonna start banging on the wall). “<em>This</em> is how we get KUFOS on the map! The dailies would just eat it up, especially if you put all the scary bits in.”</p>
<p>“No way!”</p>
<p>“Maybe you could even be, like, our official writer.” Henry said this as if it’d be an immense favour – to me! “Make all our good cases sound compelling, put ‘em in a book! Like John Keel!” Seunghyun was looking up from my report at his excitable friend, smiling and shaking his head.</p>
<p>“No!!” I could just imagine the looks on my colleagues’, friends’ and family’s faces if <em>I</em> became famous as fashion’s UFO lunatic. I thought about Seunghyun and the doors of opportunity that had been constantly slammed in his face; no way could I do the same thing. It’d be almost as risky as coming out! I wasn’t ready to do either. And besides…</p>
<p>“What?” said Seunghyun, after shooting me a quizzical glance that quickly turned sharp. I bit my lip. “C’mon, Jiyong.” I rubbed my hands over my face (gently, I didn’t wanna get wrinkles).</p>
<p>“How many of those things – at my door, on the street, in your dreams – have warned us <em>not to talk</em>?” Thinking of Moon and the Tall Man still made me queasy.</p>
<p>“…He has a point.” Seunghyun had turned rather pale; I could tell he was remembering the abduction dream – if it was a dream. Henry shook his head.</p>
<p>“You can’t let them censor you! That’s what they want! Stifling knowledge, curiosity, new ideas – that’s what the MIBs <em>do</em>. But this is too important! That taxi was leading you guys somewhere: you followed out of curiosity and it <em>rewarded</em> you, you felt <em>good</em>. So let your curiosity reign!”</p>
<p>“Look, even if it <em>was</em> safe,” I declared, “I’m not gonna become the crackpot of couture! I’d like to keep my career on the rise, thanks.” Henry grumbled something that sounded like ‘materialist’. I glared at him. “Kwon Jiyong is <em>not</em> going to become a byword for occult conspiracy!” Once again I felt an echo of the sensation I’d had at the runway show, the exhilaration I’d known would come with declaring I had seen a UFO – and my utter terror at the Men in Blacks’ appearance. As far as I could see there was no world in which telling my story would be worth it.</p>
<p>“Then use a pen name. Who the hell would guess it’s you?” At this my exasperation boiled over, and before I knew it poor Seunghyun’s glass lay in pieces on the rug and he was dripping red wine.</p>
<p>“Jesus fucking Christ!” I growled. At this rate I was going to have to institute a mugs-only policy for paranormal discussions. Seunghyun quietly picked up the bits of glass with hands still bearing the marks of the last time I lost my shit.</p>
<p>“<em>Jiyong</em>,” said Henry with great passion, “you are one spooky awesome dude! C’mon, you <em>have</em> to write about this.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” chimed in Seunghyun, putting out a damp hand to stop Henry transferring his zeal to me physically by climbing right over the coffee table. “Quit nagging him! You’re not seeing those monsters – we are! Jiyong’s safety comes first.”</p>
<p>“<em>Thank</em> you.” I leaned against him in gratitude for a second; it was sweet to hear.</p>
<p>“When all this blows over, though,” added my staunch ally, “maybe you should.” Hmph; so much for support. “You <em>are</em> good,” said Seunghyun softly. “And it <em>is</em> important.”</p>
<p>“…I’ll think about it,” I said; he touched my knee approvingly and for a second I smelled white roses and felt the breeze: bliss. But I quickly pulled myself together and got my freshly-groomed head out of the clouds, aiming a finger at Henry: “<em>If</em> you finally figure out how to make this stop!”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>A MIB followed me all the way to Daesung’s. I should’ve accepted Henry’s offer to pick me up, but I was still cheesed off with him and huffily took a cab. Every time I looked behind me I saw the same black sedan, one of those boat-length American models of thirty years before. It looked so out of place there and made me feel so unsettled that I didn’t dare get out when the taxi stopped for fear of being accosted by another Moon – or worse. The driver clearly thought I was mad. Luckily a couple of minutes later Henry pulled up on a 50cc scooter (I was doubly glad I hadn’t accepted a lift). When I scrambled out I pointed wildly behind me.</p>
<p>“You see it?!” Henry frowned at me, puzzled, and when I spun round I saw what I knew I’d see: the black car was gone. “People are gonna think I’m insane if this keeps up,” I snapped at him (to cover how spooked I was). “Can these things be visible to one person and not to others?”</p>
<p>“Oh, absolutely! That’s part of their trickster nature – and it makes you easier to discredit.”</p>
<p>“Bollocks to them,” I said miserably, and we went upstairs.</p>
<p>Daesung’s place was tidier than Seunghyun’s; still, from the second you walked in you could tell what he was into: the same walls lined with obscure foreign books, same dubious conversation pieces on the table. Only where Seunghyun’s interior decor ran to luminous stars, sci-fi posters and alien keychains, Daesung’s was more along the lines of tarot cards and a surplus of candles. David Bowie was much in evidence. (Henry later informed me with a straight face that the legendary artist was one of the most famous faces of magick in the last half-century.) Not exactly goth, Daesung’s apartment was bright and airy, but definitely a little <em>witchy</em>. He gave us all a genuine beaming welcome and attempted some small talk like a courteous host. Seunghyun and I weren’t having any of that: we’d come for a progress report.</p>
<p>“Did you talk to your friend?” demanded my handsome champion, hands clasping his knees. He’d had another bad dream, I could tell.</p>
<p>“My mentor?” said Daesung, taking a seat on the tawny pentagram rug.</p>
<p>“Er, sure.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, at length.”</p>
<p>“And?” I encouraged him.</p>
<p>“He doesn’t know <em>what</em> it is,” admitted Daesung. We made a range of incredulous noises. “I mean, he agrees about the MIBs, he knows people who’ve had run-ins with similar things before. What he isn’t certain of is all the other stuff: the poltergeist activity and the white garden, the stuff that doesn’t seem to fit with Men in Black at all.”</p>
<p>“What about 93?” put in Henry. Daesung nodded.</p>
<p>“Well he’s a Thelemite pretty much, so that pinged for him. That’s why he was interested enough to talk my ear off for five hours last night. He agreed that this is magical. But <em>what</em> is ‘this’? Is the whole thing strictly a MIB-enforced punishment for Seunghyun’s big mouth? Or is it <em>more</em> – like some massive ritual you’re participating in without knowing it?” Henry’s eyes gleamed. “And if so, a ritual by whom? Entities, other magicians, something else? And for <em>what</em>? The information on that card, the weird symbols and synchronicities that’ve been turning up around the pair of you, are they all coming from the Black Lodge – or somewhere else?”</p>
<p>“Your mentor doesn’t seem to have a lot of answers!” I complained, more confused than ever (story of my life at this point). Seunghyun gave an emphatic nod. On the other side of the rug Daesung and Henry both shrugged.</p>
<p>“Wiggedy is always complicated,” said Henry with resignation.</p>
<p>“What he does know,” continued Daesung, “and what he said I oughta tell <em>you</em> – is that all these things are signposts for a journey. And you’re already on the path. Or <em>we</em> are.”</p>
<p>“You sure you wanna be a ‘we’?” I asked. If it was me I’d run a mile. Then again, I didn’t have the Hero’s Journey aspirations of a paranormal researcher.</p>
<p>“You guys came to Henry about the Men in Black. You came to me about magick – that led us down the Thelema rabbit hole.” Daesung pointed at his wallet on the arm of the sofa. “And a mysterious card with a drawing of a moon and a spaceship – which put this case squarely within UFO lore, that’s your court, Seunghyun – turns to a moon and 93: the occult. That’s my court. And Henry’s in the middle, making a bridge.”</p>
<p>“Yes!” announced Henry, “I’m important!”</p>
<p>“That’s the point.” Daesung looked at Seunghyun. “You’d never have got beyond a minor craft sighting and ufologist weirdos and government spooks if you hadn’t gone to Henry. And this last clue would’ve meant nothing without <em>me</em>. So if this <em>is</em> a journey – spiritual, ritual, or otherwise – it’s a journey meant for all four of us. It all began with you, Seunghyun: you’re the only one who’s open enough to see a UFO and join it to mysticism and magick.” The ‘renaissance man’ angle, I supposed. “Henry and I provide extra expertise.” Henry beamed; Daesung looked deeply curious. “And you, Jiyong…I think you’re a catalyst. Or a lightning-rod.” Well wasn’t that just dandy. When I met Seunghyun’s worried eyes I knew what he was thinking, so I patted his knee and voiced it for him.</p>
<p>“That’s all very well!” I pushed my hands through my hair (it needed cutting again). “But me and Seunghyun are the ones being haunted or gangstalked or whatever! We’re the ones having the shit scared out of us, not to mention actual bodily harm. I don’t care about the ‘journey’, I want this to <em>stop</em>! So if you’re here to help us – what do we <em>do</em> about all this?” I’d asked it so many times I <em>felt</em> like an echo. Henry and Daesung glanced at each other; they seemed sympathetic, but no less fired up.</p>
<p>“We have to study it more,” Henry announced. “We have to go down the rabbit hole first – try to figure out whether we’re dealing with one force – Black Lodge – or if, and this is my pet theory, there’s something more benevolent fighting your corner, too. <em>Then</em> we can build a practical solution!”</p>
<p>“Agreed,” said Daesung.</p>
<p>“And what do we do in the meantime?!” I put my arm through Seunghyun’s in solidarity. “While you two’re reading spell books I’m having my world turned upside-down!” I had no intention of going down<em> this</em> rabbit hole of my own accord; not ‘til I had no other choice.</p>
<p>“Keep telling us everything,” instructed Daesung. “Everything that happens, anything odd you notice. You’ll have to start keeping a notebook like Seunghyun.” I didn’t remind him I was a goddamn journalist and so already had one, a <em>dedicated</em> one (I didn’t care to have my beautiful fashion sketches and observations grubbed up by MIB-related recordings). But Seunghyun nodded, so I obligingly agreed. “Don’t stop thinking about it, don’t stop writing about it – that’s what they want. And in the meantime go about your business.” Just like that, eh?</p>
<p>“I will if you will.” I nudged Seunghyun; we were working together for another magazine spread on my collection tomorrow (the media interest continued, for which I had to thank his supremely photogenic face), but if he and I weren’t on the ball it could end up a train wreck. As usual these phenomena had no sense of timing. For half a minute I managed to be resentful of the Men in Black instead of creeped out and terrified. <em>Long may it last</em>, I thought, putting the image of that old-fashioned sedan in a mental box and sitting on it.</p>
<p>“Yes.” Seunghyun covered my forearm with his hand for a brief moment, patting it in what was probably meant to be reassurance. “I’ll do my best, Ji. For <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>“And you take care of yourself!” Henry told me, eyeing me pointedly. I shrugged at him. “You’re really the most interesting out of all of us.” Duh. Daesung nodded. “Seunghyun’s role in this journey is clear,” the American went on. “He’s the initiator, he brought you in. Daesung and me, too: we’re tech support. But you,” he said in fascination, “how did you get like this? Why did all this come to <em>you</em>? Are you on Tabi’s journey, or is he on <em>yours</em>?” I glanced at Seunghyun; he didn’t seem to have any illuminating wisdom.</p>
<p>“Those are some very good questions.” He laid a protective hand on my arm. “But I think we’re going to find out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/8BQJT7x.png">  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For a real-life look into the combination of fascinating discoveries, dead ends, long periods of boredom, synchronicities, and sheer weirdness that comprises proper paranormal/occult investigations, I highly recommend the 2-season documentary Hellier (free on YouTube). What begins as a panicked email from a man in rural Virginia (who believes goblins are infesting his front yard) becomes a bizarre voyage of discovery for a group of young paranormal researchers, from cryptids to aliens to Thelema to the Great God Pan. Starts off slow but damn, it’s cool and creepy! A real deep dive.</p>
<p>Up next week: a fashion shoot and a shaman :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which the boys have a scare, and enjoy a brand-new mystical experience.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Seunghyun arrived at the shoot location looking much the same as me, i.e. knackered. He pulled a sympathetic face.</p>
<p>“Dreams?” I asked as the stylist grabbed us and propelled us into the nearby community centre they’d borrowed to get us ready. (To gratify my vanity the magazine had asked if I’d model one of my outfits next to Seunghyun; I knew this would make me look extra puny but was too flattered to say no.) Seunghyun nodded.</p>
<p>“You?”</p>
<p>“Phone calls.” There’d been four last night, all silent until the world-shattering beeps as I was about to slam the receiver down. Minwoo thought I had a stalker and told me to leave it off the hook, but I couldn’t; what if Seunghyun needed me?</p>
<p>“Sucks.” He ducked into the bathroom to put on his first ensemble while I got my kit off in the middle of the makeup area (I’m not modest). The hairstylist proceeded to dress Seunghyun’s bonce in gravity-defying spikes (which was hard back in those days, the real punks used glue or egg whites to keep their mohawks up), and the makeup artist began on my face. She tutted at the dark circles and my generally haggard appearance, but being a pro returned me to my full glory with smoky eyes and android-pale lips. Then we switched round. Then it was time to toddle off to where the photographer and magazine people were waiting. Passersby gawped at us with interest, probably trying to figure out what we were advertising.</p>
<p>“I’ve never seen you model,” said Seunghyun with his usual nonchalance, looking heavenly in silver leather pants and an iridescent bomber jacket (more shoulder pads). I shrugged.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t happen often.”</p>
<p>“You’re good-looking enough.” My ego swelled before reminding me:</p>
<p>“But severely lacking in height.”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Seunghyun gallantly, remembering his old lesson, “I think you look stellar.” Thus my twitchy mood was salvaged and I arrived at the location ready to kick ass.</p>
<p>It was not an upmarket or glamorous setting. For a backdrop the photographer and editor had chosen an abandoned brutalist-style building from the Sixties, all concrete and metal framework with the requisite graffiti. They explained they were going for ‘the gritty end of cyberpunk’ (I think someone had been sneakily reading <em>Akira</em>), and five minutes later Seunghyun was leisurely and fantastically posing among a network of pipes in the basement. I didn’t much care for it down there (having been forced to watch <em>A Nightmare on Elm Street</em> with him and Henry last month) and was glad when they brought him back up. They took photos in a few more places, then sent him down the street to change into his second outfit.</p>
<p>They were taking pictures of me in the stairwell, where the light hit my face in creepy perfection (said the photographer, who seemed to be very much enjoying my close-ups, possibly ‘cos he thought I was cute and possibly because he couldn’t figure out how to make me look tall). Raising my chin as he instructed, I gazed up at the third-floor landing. Then I froze: there on the wall was the spray-painted number <em>93</em>.</p>
<p>“You can take the intensity down a notch,” commented the editor as I stared fixedly past the photographer at the reminder that something was watching us. At this point I ought to be pleased to see those mystic digits: the last time we’d followed them we’d been led somewhere beautiful, to that white place I still thought about every day. Right now, though, I merely wanted to go twenty-four hours without anything eldritch happening in my vicinity.</p>
<p>“Mr. Kwon?” said the editor. I blinked at her; she must think I was a total space cadet. I wished Seunghyun would get his ass back here – I wanted to follow that number, to go upstairs, an echo of the impulse I’d had on the runway to speak out. The feeling was exhilarating but I didn’t trust it; at the very least I wanted Seunghyun to come with me.</p>
<p>I asked for a smoke break and was granted it. They looked at me oddly when I walked away, but when I found Seunghyun outside with his own cigarette I stopped worrying about them.</p>
<p>“There’s a 93 here,” I told him quietly.</p>
<p>“Where?!”</p>
<p>“On the landing. I think it wants us to go upstairs.” Seunghyun stubbed out his smoke and said eagerly:</p>
<p>“Maybe there’s something up there they want us to see!” I didn’t disagree – but <em>who</em> wanted us to see?</p>
<p>Unfortunately we were here as contracted models and not The Amazing Mystery Boys, so in spite of the constant lure I felt from knowing that number was there we had to keep quiet and do our jobs for the time being.</p>
<p>“How about upstairs?” I offered while they were mulling over the best place to take our pair shots. “There might be an aesthetic…rooftop or something.”</p>
<p>“Nah,” said the photographer, “we checked. It’s mostly leaves and bird shit.” Not even I could spin that into an attractive backdrop. Perhaps we’d have to come back later; I could still see the number glowing in neon pink spray paint, and my gut was telling me that if we could just follow it we’d be on the right track towards <em>ending</em> this.</p>
<p>“Back to the basement,” decided the editor, and they trooped their equipment downstairs again. I caught Seunghyun giving the number another longing look before we reluctantly followed. It felt wrong, to head downwards when I was so clearly being called towards the heights. The basement seemed even darker now compared with that bright splash of paint. It didn’t make it any pleasanter to be down there. They leaned us up against the steel hulk of a generator with its mysterious levers and dials, and though there were lighting techs and fashion assistants all around us the stuffy atmosphere felt cold and remote. We posed looking cool-slash-aloof for a few shots. Then Seunghyun slung an arm around me and I gratefully moved closer.</p>
<p>“Nice,” said the photographer (who I’d now decided would most certainly like to go to bed with one or both of us). Seunghyun gave the camera a slightly sinister smile, blue contacts aglow in the careful lighting, so I attempted to look dangerous too. They were making approving noises when my attention was drawn to a flash of movement behind them. I assumed it was another assistant doing something technical in back. Then I felt Seunghyun’s arm turn rigid, and immediately goosebumps rose on my skin as, slowly and silently, like an underwater leviathan looming into view, the Tall Man appeared from the darkness.</p>
<p>My reaction was uncontrollable. I couldn’t even pause to remind myself we were in a room full of my professional colleagues: I let out a terrified yell at exactly the same moment as Seunghyun, making everyone in the room leap about a foot in the air. A couple of assistants began screaming just from the contagion of our fear and disgust. The Tall Man bent its head forward in a place where human necks shouldn’t bend; it seemed quizzical. It gave us a red-lipped smile and promptly disappeared, leaving Seunghyun and I clutching at each other and staring at nothing.</p>
<p>“Did you see…?!” I managed in a shaking voice. Seunghyun just held me harder. Jesus Christ, they must think we were on drugs!</p>
<p>“What the-” exclaimed the editor furiously, but was interrupted by the makeup artist, who had followed our line of sight and now gave a shriek of revulsion.</p>
<p>“A rat!!” I stared dumbly as one of the techs shone a light into the shadows, and sure enough there was a big fat rat looking as astonished as I probably did.</p>
<p>“Ugh!” The rat scampered off beneath a boiler pipe, and the editor, who proved to be human after all, ordered the jittery grossed-out crew back upstairs. A couple of the guys were making jokes under their breath about wimpy women and mice, but to my eternal gratitude no-one seemed to be surprised anymore that Seunghyun and I had screamed. Yelling at a (supposed) rat didn’t win me any hetero points; still, it was better than everyone assuming I’d had a psychotic break.</p>
<p>We called it a day after that. The editor apologized for the wildlife and said the magazine would call to arrange an interview date. I nodded limply and we returned to the community centre to change. The photographer kindly invited us for a drink ‘to get over our trauma’; I declined for both myself and Seunghyun, who was having his hair very vigorously (and agonizingly) combed. I didn’t want to socialize, just to regroup.</p>
<p>Once we were back in our own clothes we repaired to the nearest izakaya open in the middle of the afternoon. Over drinks and a horrified rundown of what we’d seen I discovered Seunghyun’s version of the Tall Man was a little different from mine: his was even larger, with a long neck that moved like a snake instead of snapping in disgusting angles like my version. It made me wonder again – worry, really – about the reality of what we’d experienced. It <em>was</em> subjective, then. Were these creatures solid at all? Could other people see them? Could they physically hurt us? I never wanted to get close enough to find out.</p>
<p>We both agreed, though not without some small shame, that we were too shaken to go back and investigate that 93. There was a faint part of me still feeling its pull, but when Seunghyun said no, he didn’t want to risk it, I was relieved. If we went back there alone who knew what might appear to stop us climbing those stairs? Seunghyun ordered another drink, looking depressed at his own sensible attitude.</p>
<p>“1-0 to the MIBs.”</p>
<p>“It’s for the best,” I said firmly; I could feel the goosebumps beneath my shirt. We shared a long, miserable silence.</p>
<p>“…Sometimes I wish I’d never seen that craft,” said Seunghyun eventually. Coming from him this was an astonishing admission; I quit my paranoid moping and turned to him.</p>
<p>“You’re kidding, right?” He shook his handsome head.</p>
<p>“The UFO’s got completely lost in this <em>bullshit</em>.” He sounded angry. “I just wanted to see something amazing; to prove I was right all this time. I was fine with a CE-1 story, I was having fun investigating, sharing it with my friends…” I patted his hand. “Now every time something like <em>this</em> happens I ask myself if it was worth it – and each time I get closer to thinking it wasn’t. I’m <em>scared</em>, Ji,” he confessed, stress lines appearing on his smooth forehead. “For me and for you.” The idea of Seunghyun regretting a UFO encounter was so…<em>unnatural</em> (I was gonna say ‘alien’ but it was simply too lame) that it spooked me all over again just hearing him say it.</p>
<p>“I’m scared too.” I slid my arm through his. “But this has been going on, what, a couple of months? You’ve been waiting to see a UFO half your <em>life</em>.” Seunghyun glanced around and edged me a little further away from the shadows in the corner of the bar.</p>
<p>“I know. I know – but I don’t want to live like <em>this</em>!”</p>
<p>“Daesung and Henry are working on it,” I reminded him with untoward confidence. “I’m sure they’re gonna come up with something soon.” They’d better! It was awful seeing him like this, and it wasn’t as if my life was any picnic either. I gave his arm a comforting squeeze. Perhaps I could think of something that would help him. For several minutes I sat there being philanthropic (an unusual sentiment for my formerly self-centred ass) but getting nowhere. We needed to escape this whole thing for a bit, I concluded. I had no idea how we would do that, however, so I’d just have to hope the Mystic Duo were gonna come through for us.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ve discussed it,” announced Daesung once we’d reported our latest upset at an emergency meeting of our little squad (which I refused to let Henry name because I <em>knew</em> it’d turn into an acronym). “And it seems clear that the only way to get these things off your back is with a ritual of our own.”</p>
<p>“But I don’t know how to do ritual magick!” pointed out Seunghyun. “And we don’t actually know if Jiyong believes in it.” I shrugged; not even I knew what I believed anymore. Seunghyun had a point, however: apart from how utterly ridiculous the whole proposition sounded, neither of us knew anything about the stuff.</p>
<p>“<em>We’re</em> gonna be the ones doing it.” Henry looked pleased as punch at having been included, like Daesung was the hottest cheerleader in school and he couldn’t believe his luck at being asked to accompany her to Prom. “You’ll be the targets, obviously. But we’ll craft the ritual and do the heavy lifting.”</p>
<p>“What we need to decide now is exactly how to frame it,” Daesung explained. “I’m used to a variation on Thelema and Henry has some basic knowledge of it so I figure we’ll stick with that. After all, it seems so apt to interpret this as the Black Lodge, and that’s Crowley’s wheelhouse.” There was a pause while I wondered how the hell this had become my life. Beside me my model friend seemed to have something else on his mind.</p>
<p>“But Thelema’s…you know, <em>sex magick</em>,” said Seunghyun, with a different kind of horror than usual on his face as he regarded Daesung and Henry. Suddenly I could guess what mental images were parading before his eyes. Apparently I was now making the same expression, ‘cos Daesung began to laugh.</p>
<p>“It is. I mean, it can be – but there’re other ways to do it!” Henry started cackling as he caught on to what we’d been imagining. “There aren’t too many people in Asia who’ve tried mastering <em>pure</em> old-school Thelema. My mentor’s one but I doubt I’ll ever be at his level – I get too distracted by new ideas.”</p>
<p>“Who <em>is</em> your mentor?” asked Henry with interest, as visions of him and Daesung doing the kind of thing they’d told me Aleister Crowley got up to were blasted across my imagination. Daesung shook his head.</p>
<p>“Can’t say unless I get his permission; he’s famous. But he really <em>uses</em> ritual; and if you look at his life I’d say it’s seriously doing the trick!”</p>
<p>“Huh!”</p>
<p>“Does it <em>have</em> to be standard Crowley stuff?” I ventured hopefully, seeing as Daesung clearly didn’t want to talk about his mystery teacher. “He can’t have been the only one with a working system, right?”</p>
<p>“Right,” said Henry. “There’re as many ways to practice magick – to access it – as there are cultures on Earth.”</p>
<p>“Then can’t we use some of that too, so you two don’t need to blow each other to get this done?” Henry cackled again while our main occultist looked thoughtful.</p>
<p>“I’ve never tried a mixed-magick ritual before; I was never taught it.” Very soberly he added: “I’d be stepping onto a brand-new path.”</p>
<p>“You did say this is a journey,” pointed out Seunghyun, naturally grateful to be distracted from the thought of Henry with no clothes on. “Maybe it’s yours too.”</p>
<p>“You guys don’t understand.” Daesung clasped his fingers in front of him. “Ritual is <em>serious</em>. You know how to make an invoking pentagram? Know how the Star Ruby works?” Our silence spoke volumes. “Know how long it took me to <em>learn</em> that stuff?” And, eyeing my expression: “Of course, if you don’t believe in it nothing’s gonna happen either way. But if – like me – you <em>do</em>, and you fuck it up…this shit is <em>dangerous</em>.”</p>
<p>“I just think it makes sense to use every tool you have. At least we should look into it.” There was another long pause.</p>
<p>“In that case,” said Daesung to Henry’s obvious delight, “I ought to speak to my grandma.” We all stared at him.</p>
<p>“I didn’t even know you had a grandma,” Seunghyun ventured. Now where could this be going?</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Only most of the family don’t talk about her – ‘cos she’s a <em>mudang</em>.” Seunghyun’s expression cleared, though going by Henry’s face he was as puzzled as me. “A shaman,” said Daesung matter-of-factly.</p>
<p>“Oh! You mean, like, Mugyo?” That <em>was</em> old-school. Daesung nodded.</p>
<p>“It’s hereditary on my mum’s side. So I guess it’s in me too somewhere. But the rest of the family went Christian so it’s a bit frowned upon; they never loved it went I went to visit her.” Henry made an impatient hand movement. “This is, like, Korea’s prehistoric religion,” Daesung explained. “It’s got a lot in common with old Chinese and Japanese traditions: ancestor worship, nature spirit worship.”</p>
<p>“Hmm!” said the redhead, suddenly looking most interested. “Anything to do with European nature worship – like Pan and wood nymphs and stuff?”</p>
<p>“Dunno, maybe. You see the same patterns all over the world, right?” Both ufologists nodded so I had to assume that was true. “And a few of the Korean occultists use shamanism on the down-low. I’ve even heard of it being blended with Christian symbolism – but don’t tell my mum that!”</p>
<p>“Does it work?”</p>
<p>“By itself? A two-thousand-year history says yes. And there’s nothing to say it couldn’t work alongside Christian or Egyptian-based rituals, apart from the sheer bloody-mindedness of Korean Christians – they’ve caused a lot of antagonism with the hereditary Mugyo practitioners, hence Grandma doesn’t get invited to Christmas dinner. There’s definitely been <em>some</em> mixing of West and East; I’ve heard of people bringing in Buddhism, things like that.” He looked thoughtful. “Shamanism with the Left-hand Path, though? I’ve never heard of <em>that</em>.” Daesung observed Henry’s expression of terminal enthusiasm and finally gave us a fraction of the smile. “But maybe it’s something the two of us can explore.”</p>
<p>“<em>Yeah</em>, you fucking idiots!” said Henry jubilantly, punching the air.</p>
<p>“Cool your jets,” suggested Seunghyun.</p>
<p>“So what’s your grandma gonna bring to the mix?” Henry asked when he’d calmed down, pen poised. At this point Seunghyun also opened his notebook; I soon caved to peer pressure and extracted mine from my Chanel bag.</p>
<p>“Let’s not lose focus of the fundamental goal here,” said Daesung. “To get the negative phenomena – anything connected with the Black Lodge – out of your lives; and in the meantime protect you both. A lot of Mugyo rites are for purification and protection.” He pointed at Seunghyun and I. “It wouldn’t hurt the two of you to have a ceremony done – seems like you could use it after what happened the other day – and I wanna ask about their rituals in more detail. There might be some stuff Henry and I can work into the big project. After all, it <em>is</em> my ancestral right!”</p>
<p>“Y’know,” observed Henry after Daesung had piped down and was sitting looking surprised at his own enthusiasm, “if we end up using this as well as Thelema we’ll be getting closer to Chaos magick.” He seemed happy. “Borrowing what’s useful from whatever traditions you like; the mix-and-match approach – I dig that. Very modern.”</p>
<p>“Then that’s your next research job,” ordered Daesung, now slightly harassed. “If we’re gonna mix magick you’ll have to be the expert on how we do it. I’ll design the actual rituals.” He shook his head. “<em>Chaos</em> magick – my mentor’s going to have a fit.”</p>
<p>“Dude,” said Occultist Minor (my new nickname for Henry), “this is gonna be <em>so metal</em>.” It made Daesung laugh, which I supposed was the point, and the atmosphere became lighter. Now the only gloom in the room came from me (I was turning into the Eeyore of the group and my patience with Henry’s Tigger was limited).</p>
<p>“But how much longer is all this gonna take?! We’ve been talking <em>forever</em>.” I at least had my priorities right, and getting back to normal to design clothes and write my secret account of our experiences (which would never see the light of day but would make Seunghyun happy) was Priority One. It was almost August already – soon the dark would be drawing in. Seunghyun looked expectant: he urgently wanted to know too.</p>
<p>“A while. It’s not like waving a magic wand – not only that, anyway.” Daesung smiled anxiously at us.</p>
<p>“And in the meantime your best advice is to go see a <em>shaman</em>?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said our Occultist Major firmly. “I’ll ask Grandma to set something up for you. After all, what can it hurt?” I thought of the Tall Man, felt the habitual creeping across my skin, and decided he was right: it never hurts to use protection.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Daesung’s grandma must have been something big in the world of Mugyo: in no time at all she’d hooked us up with an appointment at Guksadang Shrine, one of the most important in the country (apparently). Actually it took a <em>little</em> time, ‘cos after Daesung had described what level of protection we hoped to get out of this escapade they’d prescribed a full ritual with all the bells and whistles. It seemed this could only be done on an auspicious day, so it was almost a week before Seunghyun and I climbed into his Presto (which by now had seen almost as many paranormal events as myself) and made our way out of Seoul onto Mt. Inwangsan.</p>
<p>“You think it’s enough?” I wondered as Seunghyun unloaded the crates of fancy fruit, dried fish, rice cakes and alcohol from the boot of his car.</p>
<p>“She said this is standard for the scale of the ritual.” Seunghyun shouldered two crates while I helpfully picked up the fish (remember what I said about his physique? No reason for me to exert myself). “Although I gather there may be some haggling.”</p>
<p>When we arrived at the shrine proper I found a set of traditional buildings with arched eaves, painted a vibrant russet and turquoise. It was a green place full of nature noises, and would have been peaceful if not for the rhythmic echo of a drumbeat and a muffled voice rising and falling a little way off: sounded as if someone was having their own life crisis fixed right now.</p>
<p>“Mr. Choi, Mr. Kwon,” came a cheerful voice from much closer as we were earwigging on the distant ceremony, and we turned to see a young woman in white hanbok – an acolyte or junior shaman, I presumed. Her expression changed as she got an eyeful of Seunghyun’s unlikely beauty, and when her face turned pink I could tell she was sporting the female equivalent of an erection (not that this was exactly my area); I moved closer to him on instinct. She quickly led us into the main building past some creepy wooden statues, and though a hall with a bright, intricately painted ceiling where stacks of food offerings were piled. My stomach rumbled a bit, I hadn’t been in the mood for breakfast and was now regretting it. I wondered if the shamans got to eat these gifts or if the spirits hogged the lot for themselves, but I was soon swept past the piles of succulent melons and oranges into another large room. It had several doors and a low wooden stage with many colourful objects hanging on the back wall. I stood and peered around with interest, noting the cool patterns and designs (ever with an eye on my next collection); beside me I could feel Seunghyun being intrigued.</p>
<p>After a few minutes a quiet step caught my ear and I looked round, finding another woman directly behind us. I jumped – she was stealthy! – and she smiled at the effect she’d had. I elbowed Seunghyun, who quit admiring the ceiling so I could introduce us.</p>
<p>“I’m Kim Namsum,” she said directly. “I’m chief <em>manshin</em> here; we were happy to be recommended to you by someone so important.” (Grandma, I presumed.) It wasn’t ‘til later that I learned <em>manshin</em> is what the <em>mudang</em> or female shamans call themselves (and to be honest I doubted I’d remember it: it’d taken me this long to learn my MUFON from my NICAAP, I wasn’t about to memorize a whole new lingo).</p>
<p>“Thanks for seeing us,” I replied as we gave her a set of extra-polite bows. There was something about her that dictated respect; maybe the imposing white robes she was wearing (and rocking), maybe the silent but palpable hum of…power, I guess you’d call it…that surrounded her. She was in her late forties maybe and wore what I’ve always thought of as ‘mum makeup’. She smiled at us again.</p>
<p>“This should take about four hours.” I’d been surprised when Daesung told us, but once I was informed that some Left-hand Path rituals take weeks this seemed the soft option. The shaman wisely added: “If you need the bathroom, better go now.” We both took her up on this offer and scuttled off in the direction of a beckoning assistant.</p>
<p>“So what exactly do we need to do?” asked Seunghyun when we returned; we’d been wondering that the whole drive up here. Daesung said it depended on the ceremony, which like all good occult rituals would be tweaked to fit our personal circumstances. The chief <em>mudang</em> finished arranging a number of items on a table by the stage – among other things I could pick out a staff, a large decorative fan, and (worryingly) what looked like a pair of formidable bronze knives.</p>
<p>“I’m going to channel a number of spirits and ask that they look out for you; they may want to talk to you, they may not. But first we need to ensure everything is clean.”</p>
<p>“I washed my hands,” put in Seunghyun. I trod on his socked foot and he shut up.</p>
<p>“Purity is key to your cleansing and protection,” the chief shaman explained, in the tone of one of my favourite elementary school teachers. “I’m happy you came wearing white.” I felt myself colour at her words: I was well aware that, according to my mother’s church, my lifestyle and purity had nothing to do with each other. “You are not impure because of who you love,” the <em>mudang</em> informed me with eerie perspicacity. “We have no doctrine, no scripture: it’s not the role of Mugyo to pass judgement. We don’t evangelize; <em>you</em> came to <em>us</em>.” Seunghyun gave me a swift look of understanding and I went even redder.</p>
<p>“How do we get pure, please?” asked Seunghyun politely.</p>
<p>“Simply be part of this, and be open. We’ll do the hard work.” She waved us to a couple of cushions in front of the low stage, then called to her assistants.</p>
<p>“This is gonna be so interesting!” Seunghyun whispered to me. I wasn’t surprised: we’d known each other long enough that I’d fully accepted Daesung’s characterization of him as the Renaissance Man of the peculiar.</p>
<p>“It just feels…weird not knowing what to expect,” I murmured back; but before Seunghyun could lecture me on opening my mind a lone drum began beating. The young shaman who’d met us appeared from one of the doors and settled herself at the left side of the stage, holding a drum shaped like an hourglass; it was surprisingly loud, but unobtrusive, like a heartbeat. Another woman emerged on the right-hand side with a brass bell, which she struck on an off-beat that at first confused but soon lulled me. The final musician to appear was a Korean harpist. When she had taken up her position a silence fell and Seunghyun and I got comfortable: we were beginning.</p>
<p>Those four hours were among the oddest of my life, and from me that’s saying something. First I was quite interested – when the drum-playing shaman was throwing water to cleanse the altar and burning paper to purify it – then fascinated with the amazing costumes and poetic chanting of the chief <em>mudang</em>. She certainly knew how to own a stage. There was some surprise in there too, early on, when one of the spirits (or gods or entities or whatever) she was channelling took issue with the offerings we’d brought and began haggling directly with us, saying we’d never bothered with him (I knew it was a ‘him’ because the shaman was wearing a male costume to represent him) before, so why should he help us out for a few paltry boxes of fruit? Later I was informed this was a fairly standard exchange, Korean spirits being capricious, but it threw us a tad at the time. The younger shamans kept smiling and nodding at us so we promised we’d do better and it was apparently satisfied.</p>
<p>“Can you feel something?” I asked Seunghyun in an undertone two hours in, beneath the sound of the music and <em>mudang</em> Kim’s chanting. “Like a <em>vibration</em>.” I was so hungry I was beginning to feel lightheaded.</p>
<p>“Just from the drum and her dancing. And my pins and needles.”</p>
<p>There had indeed been a lot of interesting movement on the stage above us, starting off slow and hypnotic but growing infinitesimally more insistent. I found it hard to take my eyes off her. Maybe it <em>was</em> the dance, footsteps echoing beneath my skin while the drumbeat resonated in my chest. It was hard to tell, but what I was sure of was that the room was gradually becoming <em>full</em>. It was different from the old creeping feeling that there might be Men in Black behind me, and I probably couldn’t have turned to look if I’d wanted to – by the three-hour mark I was mesmerized by the whirling figure of the shaman. Occasionally she would go offstage to change, or come forward to wave various ritual implements at us. Still, I knew the new crowded nature of the room was centred on her. She seemed to be in a trance and I felt the same way, like I was rising and rising, buoyed by the energy of whatever had come down – or come <em>through</em> – to possess her. Strangely enough it wasn’t frightening, more along the lines of ‘oh right, <em>this</em> part’ – as if I had done it before. I didn’t leave my cushion, I swear it, and yet my position was slowly changing to look down on the bright colours and whirlwind sleeves of her robes as the music and the dance sped to a frenzy. At the climax, just when I thought I couldn’t get any higher without hitting the ceiling, she threw the two huge knives to the floor and stamped on them; then she tilted her head to look up at me. I think she <em>winked</em> at me, and a moment later I fell back down.</p>
<p>When I became aware of myself again I was panting on my cushion and the music and movement had stopped. By the time I got myself together enough to notice my surroundings Seunghyun had quit his minute observation of the stage area and the bell-playing acolyte had brought us all a cup of tea.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Seunghyun. He beamed at me, a serene smile I hadn’t seen since his first nightmare, and before I knew it I was smiling back. I felt…actually I couldn’t tell if I felt any different; but for four solid hours I hadn’t been <em>worried</em> – I’d almost literally been taken out of myself.</p>
<p>“It should stick for a while,” said <em>mudang</em> Kim when an assistant had brought her a cushion and helped settle her with her big fan to cool her. By rights she oughta be exhausted, but I think I was breathing harder than her. We both thanked her very sincerely, promising to report good things to Daesung’s legendary grandmother.</p>
<p>“Did it work?” I asked curiously, not knowing the first thing about what practical effects this protection ritual was supposed to have.</p>
<p>“For now.” She gave us a quizzical once-over. “There’s something <em>extremely</em> interesting happening with you young men, however. It’ll take more than a half-day ritual to sort it out.”</p>
<p>“We know,” I said, though not as glumly as I would have yesterday. Was I <em>feeling </em>protected? Difficult to tell; perhaps I was still half in that trance state. Then again, Seunghyun was looking fairly chipper too and I didn’t think he’d experienced anything unusual. As if to confirm this, our spiritual doctor observed to me:</p>
<p>“Something happened to you, during. You felt them in the room.” Seunghyun turned his attention to me with the usual excitement and slight envy (why he should want to be a supernatural magnet was beyond me, but he is what he is).</p>
<p>“I felt…floaty.” Good work, Jiyong, that’s the articulate reportage you were trained for.</p>
<p>“You could be a shaman,” said the <em>mudang</em> in a considering tone. Leaning forward she placed the end of her fan beneath my chin to tilt my face up. “There aren’t many men – <em>baksu</em> – these days who have the aptitude. It’s dwindling in your sex.” In slight panic I slid my gaze sideways to avoid her mesmeric eyes, and found Seunghyun gawking at me with his mouth an ‘o’ of interest.</p>
<p>“…I don’t think it runs in the family,” I told her when a nudge of the fan brought my attention back, the force of her authority prompting me to add a polite “ma’am”.</p>
<p>“Yes. You’d be a <em>kangshinmu</em> – an initiate. That’s rare in the South; it would take a lot of training and a special ritual but you might manage it.” One side of her mouth curled up in amusement. “There’s something in you that attracts what I imagine you’d call <em>spooky shit</em>.” Hey, <em>that</em> was spooky! I glanced at Seunghyun again and saw his eyes had widened even more: how could she know?! “You’ve been experiencing insomnia? Hallucinations, lack of appetite? We call that ‘spirit sickness’.” What the… Anybody looking at what I’d been going through from the outside might characterize my experiences with the supernatural and their aftereffects as <em>exactly</em> that – it was uncanny. “Uncanny is what we do,” she explained, removing the fan and kneeling back comfortably to swig more tea.</p>
<p>“<em>Cool</em>!” I heard Seunghyun whisper to himself; even without looking I could tell he was itching to get his notebook out.</p>
<p>“Yes. We connect with the beings ordinary people can’t see. And then we harness that energy and let it work with us. It’s a noble and useful calling,” she added without irony. “Plus you get to sing and dance and wear costumes.” She certainly had a bead on what would appeal to my peacock nature.</p>
<p>“Erm…I’ll think about it?” The shaman waved her hand for us to stand up, indicating that we’d come to the end of whatever bang our melons and makgeolli had bought.</p>
<p>“Consider it a path you could take someday.” Her dark eyes turned to Seunghyun, who still had pins and needles and was leaning on me familiarly while I supported him. “One of many, no doubt.” That appeared to be it: we thanked her again and the assistant led my hobbling friend and I out into the fresh air.</p>
<p>“Feel cleansed?” he asked with a smile, leaning against a handy bit of fence to shake his legs out before we climbed back down the stone steps.</p>
<p>“Mostly confused.” I still couldn’t tell how I felt: that trippy air of mysticism in the ceremony itself had been dispelled by the tea and conversation. Nonetheless, it’d been an experience, and if it did turn out to be helpful I would seriously consider Mugyo for the resolution of my (no doubt numerous, especially if I continued to hang around with Seunghyun) future problems.</p>
<p>“Hey, at least you got a job offer out of it.”</p>
<p>“That was so weird.” I gave Seunghyun my arm and we walked down in the direction of the distant car. “Hah, I wonder what Daesung’ll say when he finds out I’m horning in on his legacy.”</p>
<p>“Somehow,” said Seunghyun, “I don’t think he’ll be surprised. <em>I’m</em> not.”</p>
<p>“Why’s that?” He shot me a glance from the corner of one large eye, and his lovely lips curved upwards.</p>
<p>“Well. You’re a pretty magical person.” He sounded totally nonchalant; but I had to stare at the ground to hide my infatuated smile all the way back to the carpark. All in all, I would call this long, weird day a success.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Perhaps that mildly astonishing ceremony <em>had</em> turned our luck. One of ours, anyway: ‘cos the next day Seunghyun was offered a modelling gig in Tokyo.</p>
<p>“You’re gonna take it, right?” I said firmly, delighted at his good fortune and at my hand in it – oh, Soojoo and Youngbae were about to eat some humble pie!</p>
<p>“It’s very short notice.” Seunghyun sounded as blithe as ever, even more so since the ritual at the shrine: psychological or not, it’d made us both more relaxed. And I hadn’t got any creepy phone calls or seen any MIBs. Still, it was hard to get Seunghyun enthused when it came to this line of work. “The week after next!” he complained.</p>
<p>“Look, d’you wanna play a superhero or not?” The job wasn’t exactly couture fashion; in fact he’d be the model for a new snack food brand, which had chosen to run an advertising campaign based on <em>Kamen Rider</em> (think Power Rangers) and had been impressed by Seunghyun’s handsome heroics at my runway show. A goofy booking, yes; but when I pictured my statuesque friend in spandex I couldn’t help feeling it might be a stroke of genius. Seunghyun grinned (sci-fi geek, remember?).</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, you’re worse than my mum.”</p>
<p>“You’ll call your agent when you get home, then.”</p>
<p>“Mm-hmm.” We strolled on towards the café behind the bookstore; we were meeting Major and Minor on our lunchbreak. It was another sunny day, and we’d had good news. By rights the shaman’s protection ritual should have made this meetup feel less urgent; still, when Daesung and Henry at last showed up I felt Seunghyun’s hand squeeze my knee hopefully under the table. I shot him a bracing smile.</p>
<p>“Right,” said Henry, who was sweating through his MUFON polo shirt in the early August heat haze. “Good news: we know what we’re gonna do now. The rough outline, anyway. I’ll take your silence as a thank-you – we’ve been pulling all-nighters since Wednesday!”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Seunghyun and I chorused, though I’d reserve my own gratitude for the time their plan actually started working.</p>
<p>“The bad news,” Henry went on, “is that it’s gonna take ages to pull off.”</p>
<p>“If we <em>can</em> pull it off,” added Daesung. “And I don’t think the Mugyo ceremony is going to hold once the Black Lodge figures out what we’re trying to do.”</p>
<p>“Let’s start now, then!” I didn’t want to wait any longer: the thought of a resurgence of that constant fear and paranoia made my entire body stiffen. Next to me Seunghyun was biting his lip.</p>
<p>“Easy to say,” put in Henry. “With a few precautions you buggers can carry on with your jobs regardless. It’s me and Dae who’re gonna have to use up our annual leave battling the denizens of the dark dimensions!”</p>
<p>“Come <em>on</em>,” I said, reading his expression beneath the beard, “you can’t <em>wait</em> to do this!” For all I knew he’d already bought mystic robes for the occasion. Henry cackled.</p>
<p>“But we don’t want you guys getting fired for helping us out.” Seunghyun, sweet and conscientious as ever.</p>
<p>“My play finishes the week after next,” said Daesung pensively. He raised an eyebrow at Henry. “How much time off will your company give you in one go?” I’d never been one hundred percent sure what our American friend did for a living or what firm he worked for, but I knew it was something highly technical and important (in other words, boring). Henry shrugged.</p>
<p>“Dude, I got all my horsepower at home!” I remembered the hulking monolith and plastic tentacles that made up his computer. “I can write code there between rituals; I’ve got some vacation days to use up, and if I make myself obnoxious enough I’m sure they’ll let me work from the apartment!”</p>
<p>“Do your best,” I said, deadpan. Henry gave me the finger, which I returned. He grinned.</p>
<p>“What d’you think?” he asked Occultist Major (I hadn’t informed them of their nicknames, suspecting Henry would find it too cool). “Both at my place or should we do it separately? Daesung scratched his head.</p>
<p>“We’ll figure that out once we know exactly what ceremonies need to be done when, and how often. Now we’ve got the rough plan I’ll run it by Jaesuk-” He stopped, went bright red, and clapped a hand across his mouth.</p>
<p>“Aha!” crowed Henry, pointing at him. “Er…who?” Like Seunghyun and I, he’d guessed this was Daesung’s mentor – and <em>now</em> I got all the secrecy. He’d said he was famous, hadn’t he?</p>
<p>“No!” Seunghyun sounded amazed. We both stared at Daesung, who smiled at us innocently. “Not <em>that</em> Jaesuk? Yoo Jaesuk?!” The nation’s most beloved, bread-and-butter TV personality, that adorable lanky speccy variety show host was a <em>magician</em>? Come to think of it I’d seen a Polaroid photo of him in Daesung’s apartment; but I’d thought it was just a fan picture!</p>
<p>“The glasses guy?” Henry inquired. Daesung looked like he was gonna brazen it out for a minute; then he threw up his hands (always with the theatrics, these people).</p>
<p>“All right! You got me. Yeah, the Grasshopper. How else d’you think he got to be the nation’s MC – his looks?”</p>
<p>“No waaay.” This was mind-boggling enough to distract me at least for a while from my own troubles, though by the looks of it our fascination was only adding to Daesung’s.</p>
<p>“You can’t tell anyone about this! He’ll stop teaching me.” I think it was the first time I’d seen him completely absent a smile. Seunghyun reached across the table to throw both arms round him like the big baby he was, and promised we never would. And honestly, who the hell would you tell? I could just imagine how that nugget of insanity would go down, were I to start gossiping that Yoo Jaesuk was an occultist. “But I want his input,” Daesung said seriously. “Especially now we’ve mixed Mugyo into the ritual.” He snapped his fingers to get Henry’s attention. “Because this could be <em>really</em> dangerous.”</p>
<p>“But if you can,” Seunghyun said, his deep voice eager and hopeful, “all this might finally stop?” He met my eyes – God, I hoped this madness had something to it! Fuck; what on earth was I putting my trust in here? But Seunghyun was right: we had no other options.</p>
<p>“Don’t get excited!” That was rich coming from Henry, but he was showing surprising restraint. “Ritual work really takes <em>weeks</em>.”</p>
<p>“That’s right,” added Daesung. “I reckon another week or so to prep for it and at least two more to carry it out. And that’s with me and Henry going at it full-tilt.”</p>
<p>“I’d better book Nat a surprise holiday.” Oh, his wife was going to be <em>very</em> surprised; if she went along with this she had the patience of a saint. “She was saying she wants to visit her mom.” Henry’s blue eyes were flashing, while Daesung’s smile had come back. They both seemed wary, which made me worry that this really <em>was</em> risky. And yet…if it could make these experiences<em> stop</em>, make these…things, these creatures back out of our lives, it would be worth it: hearing that the protection from the shaman’s ritual would fade under the influence of the Black Lodge scared me, and I hated seeing Seunghyun like this again. I wasn’t feeling too wild about my own chances, either, and even if the other synchronicities and messages <em>were</em> coming from a benevolent force I felt that my mind had been broadened enough.</p>
<p>“What will Jiyong and I have to do?” Seunghyun asked. Bloody good question: the closest I’d got to magick (that damn K!) was playing ‘light as a feather stiff as a board’ with Dami and her friends in middle school. I couldn’t picture myself waving a wand, the Mugyo stuff with the knives had weirded me out quite enough.</p>
<p>“We’ll tell you,” said Daesung without a hint of levity, “when we’ve got the okay.” His small eyes regarded us both from behind his fringe: a measuring, concerned glance. “But whether you’re taking part actively or not, you two are gonna be right in the middle.” He covered our hands with both his own. On what seemed like instinct Seunghyun reached out and grabbed Henry’s hairy paw; after a moment I felt compelled to do the same. We sat there holding hands, an electric little circle of crazy. Daesung nodded at us, once. “So brace yourselves.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/v54dyJc.png">  </a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mugyo is very interesting, but at the time this fic is set it was rather unpopular, squeezed out by the Christians (Korean Christianity is not a charming kind of religion). Happily it's now seeing a revival, and it's nice because most of the top shamans seem to be women :)</p>
<p>Next chapter Jiyong has a particularly difficult time - it seems he can only escape in his dreams...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Jiyong has an anxious and lonely time; but the anti-MiB measures finally get underway :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I soon tired of bracing myself for something to happen; if anything it was making me stressed again, and it was getting hard to hide my jitters and the resurgence of my glass-breaking habit from my lover and friends. So with more than a week to endure before anything on the magick front even began I put all my powers into persuading Seunghyun to take the Tokyo snack-food superhero job, which was short notice but lucrative. His agent was still waiting on his answer and I didn’t know why he was dragging his heels.</p><p>“My Japanese sucks,” he said with reluctance.</p><p>“Use English; one of them’ll speak it. Anyway, with your face you’re not gonna need words.” As always the compliment went over his head.</p><p>“I get airsick.”</p><p>“Are you making excuses?” I demanded, confiscating his wallet and going through it to find the number of his agency (he didn’t call them enough to actually memorize it). “This could be a stepping-stone in your career!” And once he’d made a name for himself in Japan (luckily his language skills would hamper his ability to talk about his hobby) I could persuade my fashion contacts out there to hire him. Then we could work together even more – but not ‘til he got his ass in gear.</p><p>“They’re not <em>excuses</em>,” said Seunghyun with a pout.</p><p>“Oh yes they are, young man!” He laughed shortly, as I’d meant him to, but soon became serious again. “Don’t you wanna get away from all this for a few days?” I asked him. “If the collection wasn’t hitting the shops next week I’d go with you!” The possibility of dodging MIBs and mystic signs for a few days sounded wonderful. Seunghyun pulled a face.</p><p>“We have no idea if it’ll stop when I leave the country – it could just as easily follow me.”</p><p>“It might – and it might not. Don’t you fancy even the possibility of some peace?”</p><p>“That’s the thing,” said Seunghyun, looking solemn. “Even if I go, it won’t stop <em>here</em> – and you’ll be all alone.” The great big doofus darling!</p><p>“<em>That’s</em> what’s bothering you?”</p><p>“I’m the one who dragged you into this,” he reminded me. “I don’t wanna leave you by yourself. A lot can happen in a week! How could I live with myself if I went away and then something hurt you?” Through sheer stubbornness I managed to prevent myself from melting into a pile of goo. He was trying to take care of me!</p><p>“I’ll be <em>fine</em>,” I assured him. “I’ve got Major and Minor to go to if it gets bad again; and if I’m scared by myself I’ll crash at Minwoo’s or Soojoo’s or something. Anyway,” I continued (only half untruthfully), “next week’s gonna be hectic: I wouldn’t have much time to spend with you anyway. So you’re going, and if you care about me you’re gonna work your butt off and make it worth my while persuading you!”</p><p>“…Okay.”</p><p>“Good!” I turned from him to pick up the phone and call his agent (I wanted this in the bag before he conveniently ‘forgot’). Before I’d dialled the first three digits I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders from behind, pulling me into a bear hug.</p><p>“You’ll be careful, right?” he said in his low rumble beside my ear. I nodded silently and leaned back to enjoy it. The way he held me had changed, and even amid the recent peaks and troughs of fear I found myself liking it. When Seunghyun had touched me before it was enthusiastic, puppyish, and yes, affectionate. Now his touch felt protective; sometimes hesitant, but always as if I was something <em>important</em>. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to a week without it. Better make the most of it now.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Seunghyun called me from his hotel in Tokyo sounding relaxed as he always was on the job. When he explained the real reason, that the occult activity had indeed stopped as soon as he stepped on the plane, I nodded to myself. I’d guessed as much: because it had all transferred itself to <em>me</em>. The shaman’s protection spell was categorically <em>over</em>, and short of trekking up the mountain and persuading her to give me a top-up there wasn’t much I could do about it. I didn’t know why the Black Lodge denizens had decided not to follow him (Daesung said geographical distance meant nothing to them); but I had certainly inherited his share of MIBs.</p><p>“How’re things there?” inquired Seunghyun conscientiously.</p><p>“Same old same old,” I told him with a casual lack of concern. It wouldn’t do for him to fuck this job up by worrying about me. So I didn’t reveal that for the first time ever I was getting the nightmares too: Men in Black and singing dwarves and the paralyzing feeling that there was something in the room, that I was about to be taken from my bed and vanished. Poor Seunghyun! It was almost worse than the constant fear of seeing them in real life (whatever that meant these days); the dreams felt so <em>immediate</em>. And just today I’d seen a <em>93</em> glowing in a café window. I was too nervous to follow it in, and when I looked back not only the number but the entire restaurant was gone, a dusty TV repair shop in its place. When I called Daesung he advised me not to follow the numbers by myself; but waiting for them to pop up was only making me more jumpy.</p><p>“Will you have Minwoo come stay with you?” prompted Seunghyun, sounding anxious.</p><p>“He’s gone away for work.” And probably just as well: how could I explain my restless nights to him? There was a disapproving silence. “But if anything happens I’ll go crash with a friend!” I promised.</p><p>“Just take care of yourself. I’ll call again tomorrow.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. Eat lots of sashimi for me!” Seunghyun said goodbye, as did I; then despite the outrageous international call charges we lingered on the line for a few ambiguous seconds before I acted the adult and put the phone down. I looked around my home office, at the shadows advancing into the room as the evening deepened, and decided I’d done enough work for one day and that the best thing I could do tonight was go out and get trashed in company – anything to avoid being alone.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Once Kyungho and I had dealt with the next day’s teething problems (queries about the merchandise, requests to do guest spots at various stores and yada yada yada) I retreated to Seunghyun’s bookshop for some peace and quiet. I didn’t want to go home just yet and the place felt safe; Mr. Won had got used to me and didn’t mind me hanging out there if I shelved a few books and did some obsessive-compulsive dusting. To ingratiate myself with him I bought a copy of <em>Book of the Law</em> (Korean edition, of course), which had almost leapt into my hand in a highly suspicious manner while I was tidying. I leafed through it in the shady, sticky heat of the upstairs floor. No wonder this Thelema weirdity had taken Daesung so many years to grasp! I spent a full forty-five minutes reading two pages, and even then I barely understood them. Maybe it was the translation; maybe it was me.</p><p>“What’s the deal with this crap?” I complained to Henry over the phone once I’d given up and moped home. Outside I could hear people enjoying themselves in the late summer evening, and the fact that I wasn’t in any state to join them put me in even more of a mood.</p><p>“<em>Book of the Law</em> is hard to read, and purposely so because it’s horseshit.” Henry sounded thrilled that I’d contacted him of my own accord – a world first. “Hey, thanks for calling, all this prep is getting fucking intense! I’m <em>sweating</em>.” I refrained from pointing out that he sweated just strolling down the street, and instead snapped:</p><p>“If this…<em>magick</em>…is shit, why’re we using it?!”</p><p>“Oh, all mystic systems are technically bullshit,” came Henry’s voice cheerfully. “All religions, all magick paths, they were made up by <em>humans</em>, or at least filtered through us; they have no intrinsic logic. Doesn’t mean they don’t work, though,” he went on before I could stick my oar in again. “They do! You’ve seen the power religion has: purely through <em>belief</em>. Dae believes in Thelema so it works.”</p><p>“What the hell do <em>you</em> believe?” I demanded, having never met a bigger ‘godless heathen’ (as my mother would say) than Occultist Minor.</p><p>“Whatever’s useful at the time! That’s Chaos magick. And, like Crowley says, when I bend my will upon it through ritual, <em>something</em> makes stuff happen.”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“You’re gonna find out really soon, Jiyong,” Henry said gleefully. “Even if you don’t see what we’re doing in person, you’re gonna <em>feel</em> it – and then you’ll believe too.”</p><p>“Stop me smashing up the glassware and having these dreams,” I promised him, “and I’ll believe whatever you want.” Henry said ‘Hah!’ and put the phone down, and (I trust) returned to his occult preparations. After five minutes’ conversation with him, being alone in my apartment didn’t seem so bad.</p><p>That evening I sat curled up with the crazy book, Youngbae’s new album spinning on my record player. It was so difficult to wrap my head around that when I emerged from my self-induced academic stupor and looked up I discovered the last song had finished ages ago and the room was dark. The needle made a rhythmic <em>swish</em> as it played in the empty groove; I hopped up to turn it off, and the world went utterly quiet – I couldn’t hear anything: not my neighbours, not the nighttime traffic or stray dogs outside. Usually I was happy on the rare occasions when the people sharing my building shut the hell up. Now I quickly slapped the light on, breathed a calming sigh and stepped into the kitchen for a glass of warm milk and honey; I’d get settled, call Minwoo at his hotel (assuming he wasn’t shagging one of the locals), then hit the hay.</p><p>The milk was hissing gently on the hob, a nice domestic sound, as I got out the honey and a cheeky chocolate biscuit. When it began to boil I cut the gas and reached for a tea towel to grab the handle (my precious hands didn’t like the heat). I froze mid-reach: what was that? Silence fell again; then as I moved back to the pan there came a thump, followed by a <em>skittering</em> that seemed to be coming from inside the wall behind me. I whipped round and saw nothing. Fuck, did <em>I</em> have a rat problem now?! I inched across the kitchen and gingerly put my ear to the plaster: more nothing. Okay, I told myself, I was imagining it – the bad dreams and consequent lack of sleep were getting to me, that was all; how did Seunghyun handle it? Maybe I <em>should</em> visit the shrine again. I continued making my lonely milk drink, and was carrying it through to the bedroom to phone Minwoo when out of the corner of my eye I saw something scuttle past the kitchen doorway through the dark hall. This at least answered one of my questions: I only had a rat problem if rats were three feet tall and scurried along upright.</p><p>I reacted in the time-honoured manly way of shrieking at the top of my voice and leaping back about two yards. The glass of milk shattered on the tiles, though this time it was anyone’s guess whether I’d <em>made</em> it break or if in my sheer fright I’d simply dropped it. I stood with my hand pressed dramatically to my chest – my heart felt as if it was about to leap out of my ribcage – and stared trembling at the doorway. I could hear a remote scuffling coming from the guest bedroom at the back of the apartment, but regardless of what paranormal protocol dictated I wasn’t about to investigate. Nope – I was done. <em>Out</em>. And besides, I’d promised Seunghyun.</p><p>Twenty minutes later Youngbae’s high, stalker-discouraging electronic gates swung open to admit me.</p><p>“<em>What</em> happened?” he demanded as he shut the door behind me; the expensive calm of his luxury interior took my panic down a notch. I breathed in the fragrance of sandalwood, everything around me serene and grown-up. “Did you say a problem with your flat?”</p><p>“Yeah,” I said distractedly, breathing deep again. “Er…mice.” What the fuck <em>was</em> that?! The closest thing I could think of was the charity-collecting dwarf; only he’d been pleasant (Black Lodge or not), whereas the shape I’d glimpsed in my flat was…</p><p>“You big baby.” Youngbae gave me a consoling pat and led me towards the kitchen. The warmth and light that my friend’s home and general aura radiated made me slightly (if guiltily) glad that Minwoo was in Busan decking out some rich couple’s new house. Not to mention that Bae’s security features were Presidential level. I felt comforted; I even got my glass of milk.</p><p>“Thanks for this,” I said at last, when the warm drink had calmed my trembling hands and begun to make me sleepy. Youngbae was regarding me with a faint frown.</p><p>“Look, Ji, if there’s something you want to talk about…” Of course there was, but not with him. Quite apart from the fact that he’d probably try and have me committed or exorcised if I confessed to him what was happening, I knew it wouldn’t do any good. And it might drag <em>him</em> in too. I shook my head and gave him my best sleepy-kitten face. Youngbae sighed. “You know I’m always here, that’s all.” He had been: through my parents’ divorce, through my small-scale coming-out. That was why I felt so bad now. But he wouldn’t understand.</p><p>Youngbae is a sensitive person so he didn’t press it, and at another yawn suggested I get some sleep. I hadn’t brought anything with me, just the clothes I was standing in. That got me another dubious look from my friend (I mean, who’s <em>that</em> scared of mice?), but he was kind enough to lend me one of his twenty pairs of pjyamas (which he kept on hangers, Bae’s even more of a neat freak than me). I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed between the crisp sheets in one of his numerous guest rooms. It was decorated with great taste (Eighties taste, but nevertheless) and had several pretty lamps that I left switched on. Surrounded by light and luxury, I fell asleep.</p><p>The dream was so like my current surroundings that the transition from waking to sleep felt seamless: the room, the stylish lights, the softness of the bedcovers. I lay wallowing there for a while (dream-time is hard to measure), wondering if Seunghyun might turn up in those covers if I willed it hard enough. Until I heard the skittering again. This time I didn’t want to look but my eyes wouldn’t obey me, directing my gaze to the bedroom doorway where I was sure I would find the dwarf, his pleasant singing form reduced to the hunched goblin-like creature I’d glimpsed at home. But when I looked it was the Tall Man that emerged from the blackness of the corridor. The other one, the no-name no-face one, was beside him. They began to move towards me. As happened every time, their appearance left me frozen, my muscles scraping and grinding in the effort to move me to safety – if I didn’t wake up soon I’d go mad! With a huge surge of focused energy I bit down on my tongue, and the jolt of pain woke me. I opened my eyes from that nightmare in relief.</p><p>The Men in Black were standing at the foot of the bed.</p><p>I screamed the place down, terrifying poor Youngbae and bringing him along the hallway in a sprint, calling my name. Half a second before he arrived in my room the MIBs winked out of existence, back to their Lodge or whatever fucking dimension it was; and Bae was greeted by the sight of me sitting up in bed, white as his 800-thread-count sheets, with every lightbulb in the room smashed. He stared at me in the brightness of the hallway lamp. I had never been so grateful to see him, not even when he used to rescue me from being picked on during Gym. The way he was looking at me, however, told me he wasn’t exactly feeling the same.</p><p>“…Sorry,” I whispered, trying unsuccessfully to still my panting. I was sweating as if I’d been fighting.</p><p>“Come downstairs,” said Youngbae, with one more blank look at his broken light fittings. “I think it’s time you told me what’s going on.”</p><p> </p><p>I did tell him – I was too scared and stupid not to. The gist of it, anyway. I sat under the soft living room lights drinking water from a sturdy mug, hair plastered to my head and Bae’s nice pyjamas rumpled and damp; I could smell the fear on myself, the same fear Seunghyun had been going through: that the line between my dreams and the physical world had just been severed.</p><p>“…It wasn’t a dream,” I insisted again, then trailed off. I didn’t know what I was expecting when I finally looked up: my own old incredulity reflected back at me, perhaps. What I did see on my friend’s open face was something else – horror and some fear, disgust and <em>belief</em>. But above all that rode the single-minded surety of a man who’s completely confident God will sort everything out.</p><p>“You have to come see the minister,” he said urgently. For a second his expression became hesitant, as if he was worried my spooky condition might be contagious; then he set one hand on my forearm.</p><p>“Why, what’s he gonna do?”</p><p>“I don’t know. But those things are obviously demons.” I opened my mouth to contradict this, then gave up: according to Seunghyun one man’s MIB is another man’s devil anyway; it was all a matter of where you were coming at it from. “What happened to bring this on, Ji?” Youngbae asked in the manner of a doctor informing me I had a (spiritual) STD. “Did those new friends of yours mess with a Ouija board or something?” The answer was probably yes. Still, it had zero bearing on this case so I shook my head.</p><p>“It won’t work anyway,” I told him. “Crosses and holy water, I mean.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because I don’t <em>believe</em> it will.” Bae looked scandalized, we didn’t talk church much now we were grown-ups so maybe he wasn’t aware of how far I’d fallen off. “It’s not my religion.”</p><p>“It’s everybody’s!” he said staunchly.</p><p>“Not anymore.” Another shocked look. “I just don’t have the faith. So it won’t work.” It was one of Major and Minor’s more convincing points, but I wasn’t like Henry with his Chaos magick: I couldn’t simply pick up handy bits of dogma as I chose, throwing my belief behind each one only as long as it was useful. My experiences had at last set me on the road to accepting the Black/White entities model and my mind wasn’t flexible enough to switch back to monotheism so quickly.</p><p>“What <em>do</em> you have faith in?” demanded Youngbae, his grip on my wrist tightening as if he was afraid Hell was about to open up and swallow me. “You broke all my lightbulbs! You think anything but the power of God is gonna fix <em>that</em>?”</p><p>“It’s all ritual.” I remembered the <em>mudang</em> and the clear sensation of her power; for all I knew Youngbae’s minister had the same thing going on. But it wasn’t right for me. “You just have to pick the one you can work with.”</p><p>“…This is Seunghyun talking.” As a matter of fact it was Henry talking but now wasn’t the time to split hairs. Youngbae looked solemn, and not in an ‘I told you so’ sort of way; he seemed both frightened and genuinely disappointed. It was the exact expression he’d worn as a teenager when I’d first told him I was gay; it’d taken him two years to come round to it and I wasn’t hoping for much better now.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s Seunghyun. I’ve learned so much from him, from everyone in that world.” Bae raised his eyebrows in an incredulous manner. “I learned to open my mind,” I said sharply.</p><p>“He started all this!” Right now I didn’t think Youngbae would have much trouble believing Seunghyun had inadvertently summoned the hordes of Satan.</p><p>“Right. And he’s going to finish it.” With help, of course. “Accept it, Bae – <em>I</em> have. This is about UFOs and monsters, and forces that have nothing to do with Heaven and Hell. Maybe…maybe all that stuff exists mixed up together; but my personal problem began with the paranormal. We can’t change the frame of reference now.” His lips set stubbornly. “I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe,” I whispered. To my surprise it felt good to admit it: an echo of the high I’d been anticipating when I’d opened my mouth to confess at my fashion show. <em>Spreading the news</em>, I thought giddily, and took a long drink of water.</p><p>“I’m scared for you,” Youngbae told me once he’d governed himself enough not to yell at me (I could read his face easily; unlike me, he never tried to hide). “We said it, didn’t we, Soojoo and I: if you keep Seunghyun around you’re going to get hurt.” I started to retort – we’d been through this how many times? – but he squeezed my arm hard. “At first I thought it’d be your heart: falling for a guy like that!” I wondered whether he was referring to Seunghyun’s straightness or his many peculiarities. “Then after your show I starting worrying about your <em>body</em>.” He swallowed. “And now I’m afraid for your soul.”</p><p>“I love him. And between the good and the bad, the good always wins out.” That was certainly true of Seunghyun; I hoped it would be true of everything. Youngbae seemed deeply unconvinced, so I added: “I trust him. I need him in…in every possible sense, I can’t let go now! I just…love him.” This didn’t appear to make things better. “Wonder what your minister would say about <em>that</em>,” I continued glumly. Youngbae heaved a martyred sigh.</p><p>“You won’t come find out?”</p><p>“…No.” I’d deal with his disappointment; it was a skill I’d grown used to – and one I’d never had to exercise with Seunghyun. I wondered if Youngbae would feel safe under the same roof as me after tonight: not only was I a telekinetic victim of (probable) possession, I was also all kinds of heathen. There was a long pause; perhaps he was thinking the same thing.</p><p>“You can have that sofa,” said Bae eventually. “I’ll bring your bedding and leave the lights on.” Okay; not the worst response.</p><p>He did better than that: he brought me new pyjamas and a cool facecloth and more water in my smash-proof mug. He gave them to me in silence and I thanked him; then he took one of the blankets and sat down on the couch opposite the coffee table. I raised my head from my sofa cushion and blinked at him.</p><p>“Go to sleep,” he instructed in a soft voice. “I’ll keep watch.” A lump formed in my throat; he wasn’t smiling, but his expression of stern demon-battling resolution drew a look of pure gratitude from me. The adrenaline was wearing off now and my eyes were fluttering closed. The last thing I registered was the image of Youngbae staring with a frown at the wooden cross in his hands.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The morning was awkward. We didn’t have the argument again; Youngbae merely gave me a soulful/pious look over the beautifully cooked traditional breakfast and kept quiet. I mumbled some kind of apology for the lightbulbs and cleared out before he invited me to church. During work hours I pondered where I oughta go tonight – my flat was out of the question. If I went to Soojoo’s it’d be the same argument but louder; Henry and Daesung were busy on my behalf. That left my mum’s house, so I dashed home in the afternoon and packed the quickest bag I’d ever packed in my life, then got the hell out of the apartment before I saw anything to upset me. Mum and Dami were of course delighted, and immediately set me to peeling sweet potatoes for dinner. I grumbled under my breath but was glad of the company.</p><p>I was in the front room sketching in the late afternoon sun when a shadow fell across my pad. The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention, a horrible familiar feeling. Shit, they’d followed me here! So when I looked up I was almost relieved to see not the Tall Man but Moon Whoever’s papery face staring in at me through the window, shabby salesman suit hanging on him and lipless mouth red as before. I wasn’t exactly pleased that I’d encountered so much worse than Moon since our first meeting, but it helped me keep from screaming like I had at Youngbae’s. Yeah, I was creeped out and nauseated at the sight of him. Most of all, though, I was angry, so I clenched my fists and yelled:</p><p>“<em>Fuck off</em>!” Not very impressive as mystic incantations go, but this time it did the trick as the force of my disgust exploded the window pane in a resounding crash. I saw pieces of glass protruding from Moon’s skin and trickles of black streaming down his white face in place of blood. It was hard to decide whether I felt more appalled or triumphant as he (it) gave me a blank look and fled at a shambling run out of the front garden and down the street.</p><p>“Jiyong?!” Dami skidded into the room followed shortly by my mother, apron flapping. “What <em>happened</em>?” I was trembling so hard I wasn’t sure I could give a level answer. A muggy breeze blew in through the broken window and the curtains nudged accusingly at me.</p><p>“…Some kid chucked a ball through the glass,” I managed after a minute. “He ran away.” Dami darted outside; I could see her craning along the street, trying to spot the fictional hooligan.</p><p>“You didn’t chase him?” scolded my mum, hands on her hips amid the debris. I suspected I’d lost some more ‘real-man’ points there.</p><p>“I was so surprised.” Settling on my knees (it was easier than wobbling around upright) I began to pick up a few glass pieces. “I’ll board it up for now and have a glazier come in the morning.” My mum fetched a dustpan and brush. After a few minutes Dami came back in, having failed to find any errant little boys before explaining the crash to our nosy neighbours. Mum relayed my ineffectiveness to her. My sister looked around the room, and at me on my knees. She was quiet for a moment, then said:</p><p>“Where’s the ball?” We all stared at each other. Of course I had no answer. When they retreated into the kitchen I could hear them whispering about me.</p><p> </p><p>“Want a proper drink?” inquired Dami after Mum had gone to bed. I nodded without mentioning I’d necked about three shots of vodka while they were serving up dinner. We sat in shorts and tshirts on the sofa (the weather was still roasting), twinning like we used to do when we were kids; I’d always liked to wear Dami’s cute pants and tops and I think when we were younger she was flattered. My dad was the only one who’d hated it. Now, dressed alike though we were, I felt further from my sister than I’d ever been. “Mum’s worried about you,” said Dami. “And I’m starting to see her point.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” The more homemade cocktails I had the truer it was.</p><p>“Ji,” she said calmly, “did you break that window?”</p><p>“No!” I showed her my undamaged hands, gestured around at the pristine furniture. “How could I? <em>Why</em> would I?” Dami shrugged, observing me over the top of her Mojito.</p><p>“Looks like it was smashed outwards. Most of the glass was outside. And we never found the ball.” Christ, a fine time for my sibling to become Miss Marple.</p><p>“It wasn’t me.”</p><p>“You’ve been in a weird mood since that disco ball fell on you,” she said bluntly. “Mum thinks it’s trauma. Why else would you drag your ass all the way over here on a Friday night?” She knew I was a wild child.</p><p>“I can’t come visit my own family?” She gave me a look. “Okay,” I relented, “I’ve been lonely; I didn’t wanna stay home by myself.”</p><p>“How about Youngbae? Soojoo? This is <em>never</em> your first choice.” She didn’t sound resentful, merely matter-of-fact, but it stung anyway. “So who’re you lonely for?”</p><p>“I mean…Fridays are when I usually go out with Seunghyun – my friend, remember? He’s gone to Tokyo for work and I was at a loose end. That’s all.” Dami didn’t say anything to that, just regarded me across her glass ‘til I began to go red.</p><p>“It’s so dull when he’s not here?” she asked eventually, and I felt the heat flood my cheeks. I leaned over smartly to grab one of the liquor bottles, but when I glanced up she was still staring.</p><p>“I miss him,” I agreed, meaning to be deadpan but sounding wistful as fuck.</p><p>“What’s so great about him? If you’re a guy, I mean – I get his appeal for women, obviously.” Now it was my turn to shrug. Where to start? More importantly, where to <em>stop</em>?</p><p>“…He laughs at me,” I said. “And he lets me laugh at him – and he still likes me.” Dami slowly speared an olive with a cocktail stick and ate it. She chewed thoughtfully, as if my dumb reasoning had prompted something profound. At last she swallowed.</p><p>“You should get a girlfriend,” she told me. “You’d be less lonely.” Ah. That old chestnut. I opened my mouth to give the usual excuse about being picky/busy/princessy, but she wasn’t done. “We’ve been saying that for eight years, though – and you never have. Not once. Not really.”</p><p>“I’ve dated!” That came out defensive.</p><p>“You never bring anyone home. And you’ve never said you miss a woman like you said you miss <em>him</em>.” I set my glass down before I broke it and tried to concentrate on calming thoughts. I couldn’t tell in this instant which would be worse, admitting to my big sister that I’d developed psychic powers or admitting I was queer. In its own way this was as frightening as any MIB encounter I’d had.</p><p>“I…”</p><p>“Ji,” said Dami slowly, “are you-”</p><p>“No! I’m not <em>anything</em>,” I burst out. “I’m <em>nobody’s</em> anything. Not a woman’s, not a man’s, and least of all Seunghyun’s!” Dami’s gaze met mine – my sister, my nearest relative, so close our eyes were identical in shape and colour – and my vision went blurry with tears. I didn’t know if I was frightened or ashamed or even hopeful; I couldn’t read her expression at all. When she reached out for me I evaded her hand and literally sprinted up the stairs. I locked myself in my childhood bedroom and, like I’d done there so often in the past, burst into tears. It was all too much to cope with by myself. I needed everything to stop – and I needed Seunghyun back.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I didn’t want my loved ones to be concerned for me, and I didn’t want interrogations. So instead of going begging at Youngbae’s again or staying at my mum’s to face any more of Dami’s questions, the next morning I left the family home, went to work, then invited myself out with a group of models and young fashion movers and shakers: first to a gig (a Korean band who were borrowing heavily from Adam and the Ants) and then on to a nightclub. It was almost relaxing to be around people who were not only delighted to have my influential presence bestowed upon them but who also didn’t know me well enough to notice there was something wrong with me.</p><p>I refused to let the thought of going back to my haunted apartment cramp my style. And by the time my fifth cocktail rolled around I decided it’d be the easiest and most sensible thing to not go home at all. This naturally led me to do something that’d been rather a habit of mine, at least ‘til I met Seunghyun: find a cute guy, chat him up, let him ‘seduce’ me and take me home. I didn’t much care if they were queer or (supposedly) straight; I had the same amount of luck either way, there’s something about my small frame and features that appeals to hetero men once they’ve had a certain amount to drink. It wasn’t long before I’d found my target, bumped into him, drunk with him, danced with him, then agreed to let him call a taxi. I gave that handsome young man the blowjob to end all blowjobs (that’s what he said and I wasn’t about to contradict him) in return for escaping my own home.</p><p>In the morning I snuck out (again), failed to find a taxi, and instead trudged groggily to the nearest bus stop. I couldn’t remember the guy’s name, hadn’t even bothered to give him a sober once-over to check he was as hot as I’d thought he was last night. As you might have gathered, I had one hell of a hangover and wasn’t delighted with my drunken self’s bright idea. Minwoo wouldn’t care I’d had a one-night-stand even if he knew, but I was very close to being twenty-eight and old enough to realize (at last) that this kind of antic wasn’t getting me anywhere. It felt even dumber in comparison with my deep and enduring feelings for Seunghyun.</p><p>“Seunghyun,” I murmured to myself with a mixture of anticipation and woozy regret: he was due back today, thank God. And although he hadn’t even left Japanese soil I was acutely aware of the relief I’d feel when he was close by again; I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he’d been gone. The familiar urge to look good for him struck me as I mooched down the road past political posters and shopkeepers opening up. Dammit, though, I still didn’t fancy going home, not ‘til the sun was high enough to chase the shadows out. Instead I repaired to my local jjimjilbang and soaked myself in company with the grandpas (who were well enough used to me that they didn’t blink at my tattoos and bleached hair) for an hour, then took a nap in the common sleeping room. I wanted a real sleep in a real bed; but most of all I wanted Seunghyun.</p><p>It was still light when I let myself into the flat. Armed with a broom that was leaning outside my neighbour’s front porch I did reconnaissance in every room, jabbing it behind doors and under beds until I was certain the apartment contained no monsters (at least of the solid kind). Then I sat with my back to the wall and with a view of all possible entrances, twitching at every shadow that passed the window. When the buzzer rang I jumped; I pressed down the intercom button cautiously, half expecting a silence or more of those brain-drilling beeps. Instead I heard Seunghyun’s deep voice saying my name, and could have wept with relief. I buzzed him into the building.</p><p>When I opened the door he wasn’t there. For a second I thought I was gonna have a heart attack, that this was all some big trick of the MIBs to get physical access to my space. Then I saw him: he’d politely paused to greet the neighbour on my left (she had a Lab puppy and it was licking him enthusiastically). I said his name and he turned to me almost comically fast, abandoning the adorable dog to bundle me into the flat and hug me.</p><p>“You’re back,” I said redundantly, taking my first real breath for days within the circle of his arms. He smelled of travel and airplane food but I didn’t care. “Cheers for coming over, you didn’t have to.”</p><p>“You didn’t answer the phone!” replied Seunghyun above my head. His grip tightened. “I left you messages yesterday <em>and</em> the day before.” Shit, I’d been too intent on my security sweeps to check the answering machine. “Henry couldn’t get a hold of you either!”</p><p>“Sorry. I didn’t wanna stay by myself so I’ve been sleeping at other people’s.” I didn’t tell him how well that had gone. Seunghyun made a dissatisfied noise against my hair. We were probably approaching the limits of appropriate platonic hug time anyway, so with some reluctance I pulled back; oh, he looked really good – talk about a feast for the eyes.</p><p>“You look awful!” Seunghyun blurted without tact, just as I was thinking this. It was so indisputable I didn’t even bother getting pissed.</p><p>“…It’s <em>been</em> awful.” Leading him to the sofa I began a laundry-list of what had been happening, feeling lighter with the sharing of every awful occurrence; but when I paused for breath long enough to see his expression I found his perfect face had slipped into anger – an unusual emotion for my sweet-natured ufologist. “What’s up?” I asked, surprised.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?!” He almost shouted it, his deep voice accusing and half-panicked and <em>guilty</em>. Ah. Oh…that was lovely. Dumb, but lovely.</p><p>“There was nothing you could’ve done, and it wouldn’t help either of us to lay all this shit on you hundreds of miles away.”</p><p>“I could have come back!”</p><p>“There,” I said fondly, “that’s why I didn’t.” Seunghyun scowled at me, impressive eyebrows knitting together. Unexpectedly he took my hand: a familiar tingle, not the usual breathlessness of my infatuation but the low hum of power and possibilities I’d felt from the shaman – and the same fellowship I’d experienced sitting hand in hand with Major and Minor the last time we’d all met. I took his free hand in mine, connecting us fully: a magick circle. Seunghyun’s eyes met mine. “You’re back now,” I told him, feeling spacey but suddenly secure. He smiled at me, white teeth and nerves.</p><p>“Yeah. And now it’s going to begin.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Seunghyun’s prediction was as timely as it was dramatic. Four days later we met up with Daesung and Henry – for the final time.</p><p>“At least ‘til it’s over,” said Henry, who was proudly wearing a ‘666’ tshirt to the obvious dismay of our waitress. “And not a moment too soon – I haven’t had a drink <em>or</em> eaten meat since we last met. For purification purposes.” I raised my eyebrows. Daesung gestured to him and he produced a large and heavy-looking shopping bag, passing it across the table to Seunghyun. “Supplies,” he announced. “You guys shouldn’t need to do anything complicated but it’s best to know some basic protection rituals just in case.”</p><p>“What’s gonna happen?” I asked, alarmed. On one hand I couldn’t wait for this to be <em>done</em>; on the other I was scared of it beginning.</p><p>“Tomorrow Henry and I will start the ritual,” Daesung explained. “We’re planning for it to last around two weeks, and ‘til it’s done you won’t be seeing us; we won’t even leave our houses. This needs total round-the-clock attention.”</p><p>“You’re doing it separately?” Seunghyun quizzed them with a dubious look. “You sure that’s safe?”</p><p>“One’s as safe as the other, I think; it’s my first Chaos magick ritual so who knows what’s gonna go down.” Not reassuring, but Daesung didn’t look frightened; both of them were pale, sober, but brimming with excitement. “Henry will be doing the basic protection magick to keep us all safe; I’m on the banishing spells.”</p><p>“They’re harder,” put in Henry. “But you see why you two oughta have some extra juice?” He pointed at the bag; when I opened it I found what looked like several tubs of table salt, leaves, a stack of perforated printer paper covered with writing, and miscellaneous other items. “There’s instructions in there,” the redhead assured us. “They’re such simple old rites even Jiyong should be able to do ‘em. In fact he’s the one with the magical zazz so Tabi would do better to leave it to him if need be.”</p><p>“And when <em>will</em> we need be?!”</p><p>“If things start getting dangerous,” said Daesung seriously, “then you’ll know.”</p><p>“And who’s gonna make sure you two don’t go mad or starve or get abducted by ghastly entities?” I demanded. They looked touched.</p><p>“Jaesuk’s gonna call both of us every day,” Daesung reassured me. “At five, between the afternoon and evening rituals. We’ll give him the code-word so he knows everything’s okay.” Code-word, what a bunch of dweebs. “If we don’t pick up or say the word he’s gonna come right over. We’ve got food stores in, and in the early stages we can get delivery.” All right, they wouldn’t starve; and I supposed Daesung’s magician mentor was more capable than either Seunghyun or I of handling an occult disaster. On the other hand:</p><p>“But how do <em>we</em> know everything’s going okay?”</p><p>“We’ll phone,” said Daesung. He and Henry exchanged meaningful glances, and in that look I saw a faint flash of the energy, the hum, that I’d felt from <em>mudang</em> Kim. They really were doing this. “‘Til there comes a time when we can’t anymore.”</p><p>“Are you planning for that to happen?!”</p><p>“No.” Daesung set his attractive musical-star jaw. “But I think it’s going to happen anyway.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After two days I realized I’d been walking around braced for something cataclysmic, or at least that was what Chaerin told me when she bawled me out again over my stiff muscles. And nothing had happened. All day long I was looking out for strange men and moons and the usual <em>93</em>, but my world had suddenly become mundane; even my apartment was back to normal. When I checked in with Seunghyun for our daily hangout he said much the same thing.</p><p>“I don’t like it,” he added. When I placed one hand on his shoulder I felt he was as tense and rigid as me.</p><p>“Why not? Maybe the rituals are beginning to work already.” Seunghyun shook his head and dusted down another book.</p><p>“They take much longer than that. This is like…” he paused to wipe the sweat off his temples, the bookstore was hot and airless, and in the movement of his sculpted hand I felt a brief wash of déjà vu. “When you’re on the beach and you see the water retreating before the next big wave.”</p><p>“What does Daesung say?” I asked, shaking off the sensation that we’d had this conversation before.</p><p>“Just what he expected: nothing yet. This is what weeds out the people who wanna be magicians but have no willpower – they get bored and give up.”</p><p>“So what do we do?” I said, flapping dust away from my newly-bleached hair. “How do we know what to look out for?” Seunghyun only sighed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It started as dreams. For Seunghyun it was the return of his usual nightmares (I felt terrible for him but at the same time couldn’t help being overjoyed they had left <em>me</em>); for myself it was simply…weirdness. While the sun was up flashes of déjà vu came to me several times a day. When I slept I dreamt of Gossigul Cave and its bats and the mountains; the moon above Seoraksan and the dark basement where we’d seen the Tall Man. Figures from my life wandered through these locations with incongruous nonchalance: Henry, and Soojoo in all her lanky alien majesty, and my father. In between that the MIBs would show up – not the pure Black Lodge monsters, just Moon and unnerving salesmen in black trying to talk to me. It kept my dreams from tipping over into the sheer horror of what Seunghyun was going through, though they still woke me numerous times a night.</p><p>Then the shadows began to draw in again, creeping through my muggy apartment in the falling dusk. When I woke up alone in the small hours I could hear whisperings and rustlings that made me stumble out of bed and turn on the radio to cover the noise. I was too nervy to go look – what if I found something? Still, at least the dwarf-goblin-thing hadn’t made its reappearance, and when Minwoo could be bothered to stay over I didn’t hear anything.</p><p>“How’s <em>your</em> flat?” I passed Seunghyun a glass bottle of Coke from the nearby kiosk, cold enough to sting my fingers. (I hadn’t smashed anything in a few days and I was getting complacent.) Seunghyun stopped squinting as the sun went behind a cloud. He peered at the sky, endless eyelashes a curve against the grey. Back in the day he’d have been watching hopefully for UFOs; now he watched with apprehension.</p><p>“It’s just the dreams,” he said. They feel so real – like they’re spilling out into my bedroom.”</p><p>“Shadows that shouldn’t be there.” I knew that sensation.</p><p>“Maybe.” Seunghyun took a swig of his soda while I pressed the cold glass of my Diet version to my cheek. It had been getting hotter all week, the late dog-days of summer, and grew even more stifling when the clouds rolled in. We’d come out to brand-new Boramae Park (formerly the Air Force Academy, you could still smell the testosterone) to escape the airless city buildings, and were sitting on the grass near the fountain. We were sweating.</p><p>“They’re real.” I was sure of it. “Something’s happening; only really slow.” I’d felt it for the last two days: that low electric hum, the uncomfortable prickle of occult activity in my vicinity. Seunghyun seemed to take my opinion as read; he pursed his lips and nodded.</p><p>“I believe it. But can you see where it’s going?”</p><p>“Nope. Has Daesung told you anything?”</p><p>“He just calls to say they’re okay, then hangs up. I don’t think he can talk about it.” My friend stopped his neurotic grass-plucking and wrapped his hands around his knees. “I don’t like the mystery – not having a clue what’s gonna go down.” A quick, fond glance. “What might be coming for <em>us</em>.” I wanted to lean against him in solidarity but we were both too sticky. Instead I touched the toe of my Reebok sneaker to his.</p><p>“I know,” I agreed. “It’s the worst – not knowing.”</p><p> </p><p>As if in reply, that night I had another dream. It was different from what I’d grown accustomed to: there were no shadows here. We were sitting in the park again, only it was brighter, greener, a breeze blowing through to catch Seunghyun’s unstyled hair. When I looked up the sky was pale blue through the blossoms of the trees. I hadn’t had a feeling like this since we’d followed Cab 93. We were talking about what might happen during the ritual, and after, and what it might do to us. Neither of us had any more answers than when we were awake, so after going round in mental circles for what seemed like hours I clambered to my feet (which I’d just noticed were bare) and set off towards the distant fountain; perhaps a walk would clear my head. Seunghyun joined me, white shirtsleeves rolled up to let the wind touch his skin.</p><p>The further we walked the further away the fountain got. I could see it sparkling in the distance, and as time went on it seemed that if I could only reach it I would have all the answers, not simply to our current situation but to <em>everything</em>. The low vibration of magick flowed up from the grass to the soles of my feet, drawing me on: I wanted to get closer in the same way I’d wanted to speak out at the runway show. Seunghyun walked quietly beside me and I was very aware of him; the hum had risen to my thighs, a tingle that was almost erotic. And still the white fountain was remote.</p><p>“...I can almost see what it means,” I murmured; there was nothing dreamlike about the frustration jabbing at me. “What we need to <em>do</em>.” Seunghyun laid a hand on my back and pressed gently, stopping me and turning me towards him. Instead of the usual worry-slash-curiosity that rode his features these days, he looked calm.</p><p>“You’ll know,” he said with sudden confidence, and to my surprise raised his hand to smooth the short hair on my temple where I’d scrubbed at it in irritation; his touch was comforting and certain and I found myself leaning into it, making the most of this hint of romance I could never have in the waking world. I covered his hand with my own and with some urgency asked:</p><p>“<em>When</em>?”</p><p>“It’ll all make sense,” Seunghyun assured me in that beautiful voice. “A perfect moment.” He fixed his big eyes on mine. “When...” Then he kissed me.</p><p>Oh God. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d had dreams about Seunghyun before, and very sweet they were. In the usual course of events just imagining his kiss was enough to make me hard: the image of parting those lovely lips that normally opened to spout nonsense about alien conspiracies or scoff fast food was an instant turn-on, and back in the old days would result in hurried solo sessions in the middle of the night or long furtive afternoons with my toy collection when Minwoo wasn’t around. I always felt guilty when I saw Seunghyun after, though not enough to stop me. This was different: an eroticism that was purely spiritual. I didn’t close my eyes; the moment his lips touched mine everything vanished in a wash of bright, warm light as the hum rose to envelop us – like the rising dawn when we’d lain together in that garden. That had been a dream too; hadn’t it? Was I really dreaming now? Suddenly it didn’t matter: I looked into that blinding light and knew the answer to everything.</p><p>It seemed a mere second later that I woke up. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to retain the sense of enlightenment and the feeling of Seunghyun’s lips on mine. A shift in the stifling air beside my head distracted me and I was abruptly alert; I blinked, opened my eyes, and found myself staring into at the shadowy silhouette of…<em>something</em>. That bloody dwarf again? The Tall Man bent double? I couldn’t tell, there was only the sensation of paralysis and terror: a warning. I cried out and the figure vanished as Minwoo jerked awake beside me; he started shaking me, obviously thinking I was having a nightmare.</p><p>“…I’m fine!” I mumbled, heart racing.</p><p>“Bad dream?” He never had nightmares himself.</p><p>“I saw…!” Oh, what was the point? It wouldn’t help to have him think I was crazy. “Yeah. Bad dream.” Minwoo patted me on the shoulder before shuffling back across to his side of the bed (I must’ve been sweaty and unpleasant). I clutched the sheet and sat up, trying to think. The phenomena had never bothered me when my lover was around, which was why I kept inviting him over – the sheer force of Minwoo’s pedestrianism had been like armour against them. And if Minwoo <em>did</em> see something it would only prove me right, make it easier to speak the truth; of course they’d be hiding from him. So why now? Was it a reaction to the ritual? I thought back to the dream, but it was futile, its profundity slipping away through my fingers. The apparition had effectively ruined it, and perhaps that was the point. Major and Minor had both said it: the Black Lodge didn’t <em>want</em> me to be enlightened. They must be very determined, to show up while Minwoo was right beside me. And he could no longer keep me safe.</p><p>I stayed awake the rest of the night, wondering what had been so important that the MIBs had had to interrupt me. What would I have learned that might help us? And how the hell was I meant to explain <em>this</em> dream to Seunghyun?</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/yTs4C70.png">  </a>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Two chapters left! And actually the final one is more like an epilogue. So everything's gonna go down next week XD</p><p>I know you guys have been waiting patiently for the GTOP to kick in (and for Seunghyun to get a clue), so I hope you'll enjoy it :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which everything comes to a head...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, we're nearly at the end! And I'd say this is probably the main 'final chapter' - next chapter is shorter and just cuteness plus epilogue. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the first week of the ritual I neglected my friends and family; not just because I was avoiding their questions / disapproval / exorcism attempts but ‘cos I only felt secure with Seunghyun. I did stay nights at Minwoo’s when he was around (not that it could stop the phenomena entirely), returning to my flat to find irate and worried messages from my sister and Soojoo. Placating them was an exercise in frustration, so it was a relief to seek out my friend: the only one who knew what I was going through. I think he felt the same; at least I hoped he did.</p><p>“I had a different kind of dream,” he told me, the day after my vision of the white park. I pricked up my ears. “I think it was…not the Black Lodge. Whatever’s on the other side, maybe.”</p><p>“I dreamed about the park. There was a fountain or something.”</p><p>“Me too!” He didn’t elaborate, but I was used to him being cagey about the things he had to endure at night.</p><p>“Was it nice?” I asked.</p><p>“…Kind of,” said Seunghyun hesitantly, and blushed red as a fire engine. Why was he… Christ, had my sensual imaginings somehow spilled over into his dream?! I wanted to ask; but he looked so embarrassed I couldn’t. It would be a dick move to make him uncomfortable by demanding details, the last thing he needed in the middle of this chaos was an (apparent) advance from his gay friend – he’d been plenty tolerant of me already. So I didn’t say anything more, and neither did he; but I thought on it a lot.</p><p>My one source of enjoyment was our afternoons together, especially if a gleam of sunshine managed to penetrate the heavy clouds. We spent them at the bookstore or in my little rented sewing room. Having Seunghyun all to myself meant I’d acquired a perfect tailor’s dummy on which to mock up new designs, and being allowed to touch him so constantly and closely gave me a sense of what I can only call <em>nourishment</em>. And pleasure; of course that. How could I fail to be happy with Seunghyun standing patient in leggings and a tight tshirt while I draped textiles around his magnificent frame? He would lounge there serenely as I scurried and pinned at his feet, yakking nonstop about the KUFOS agenda and the extent of the recent phenomena around us, and how Major and Minor were getting on. Daesung called Seunghyun’s place first thing every morning to let us know they were still alive, but never went into details.</p><p>“You think it’s working?” I asked, after we’d spent twenty minutes making futile guesses about the nature of the rituals (reading <em>Book of the Law</em> hadn’t exactly cleared things up). “Or are they making things worse?” I felt a familiar shiver ripple through me, this time thanks to the shadow in the shape of a…something…that had stood in the entrance to the subway yesterday while I was en route to an interview; it had terrified me, and of course I’d had to walk to the next station and was late.</p><p>“You know what they say,” replied Seunghyun optimistically. “It’s gotta get worse before it gets better.” I shook my head and continued pinning muslin round his waist; I was very much afraid that was true. “You have to <em>believe</em>, Ji,” he reminded me. “That’s what’s gonna help them help us – they need our power too!” He touched my shoulder in a fond way, and I couldn’t help myself: I slipped both hands around him and (carefully, ‘cos of the pins) leaned against him. The feeling of his arms drawing me close filled me with wellbeing. I felt as though this had happened before – a hundred times, a lifetime with him. Another déjà vu, no doubt; but it was one I’d be happy to repeat forever. When Seunghyun exhaled his breath was unsteady against my hair.</p><p>“I believe,” I murmured reassuringly into his collar. At the very least I believed in him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“You gotta speak up!” I yelled down the phone once I’d determined this wasn’t a MIB call. It was pure coincidence (or was it?) that I’d ventured back to my flat mid-morning at the beginning of our second week; I had to make some work calls. I could barely hear the person on the other end; but as soon as I recognized Daesung it was clear our brief period of peace was over. “Can you hear me?”</p><p>“Jiyo…?”</p><p>“Yeah! What’s going on?”</p><p>“I can’t reach <em>hyung</em>…” Daesung’s voice was faint and crackly, as if the line was failing. Outside it was muggy with the promise of storms on the way, and I couldn’t tell if it was the MIBs or the weather interfering with the phones. It didn’t bode well either way. “Jiyong,” he said, even quieter, like he was shouting from a great distance. “Go to his place! You’ll be stro…er together ‘til we can-”</p><p>The line went dead. I stood staring in perturbation at the receiver until a high-pitched tone like the screech of an insect swarm came through it; my eardrums felt as if they were juddering under the strain and I slammed the phone down before it could burst them. For a minute I wavered, wondering if it had really been Daesung calling or…or something else. Then I packed my bags, clothes and work supplies and the paraphernalia Henry had given me, and left the apartment for Seunghyun’s; whoever had made that phone call, it was advice I was inclined to follow. I was too smart to hope that whatever was haunting my place would stay there, but surely we’d be stronger together.</p><p>Seunghyun was doing a shift at the bookstore but his ramshackle building’s door was hanging open. I let myself into the flat with his spare key: messy as usual. While I waited for him to come home I cleaned the place; if we were gonna be called upon to protect ourselves I thought I’d accomplish more with a tidy mind. It didn’t even occur to me that he might not want a lodger. As I was vacuuming it <em>did</em> occur that Seunghyun had no spare bedroom, which gave me a moment’s pause. Then I found his camping supplies and sleeping bags. The sofa it was, then, and if that was the greatest discomfort I’d experience during my stay I’d be getting off lightly. I wondered if Daesung or Henry would manage to get through again; that phone call was worrying me more with every minute I dwelt on it. Belatedly it reminded me there was someone else who had a right to be worried about all this, so I finished washing up and used Seunghyun’s house phone to call my lover. I reached him without any technical difficulties.</p><p>“So…are you sleeping with this guy or what?” demanded Minwoo when I informed him I’d be staying over at Seunghyun’s for a few nights. If he was dealing with any jealousy it seemed to be mild, though I was stumped whether he was jealous for me or <em>of</em> me. To the uninitiated, after all, Seunghyun was a dreamboat. The question surprised a laugh out of me – I wished!</p><p>“No,” I assured him. “Seunghyun’s not into men.”</p><p>“Like half the guys you manage to get in bed.” Minwoo made a noise that sounded like a verbal shrug. “It’s sort of admirable, actually: that you’re enough to turn them all by yourself.” Yeah, ‘cos that had always worked out <em>so</em> well for me.</p><p>“Not this one,” I stated. I had to admit, it’d made me think twice just now, the idea of sleeping just a door away from the man I was deeply and definitively in love with. Not that I was worried about <em>him</em>, you understand – it was my own willpower I was concerned with. But I was so unnerved at everything that was going on and Seunghyun had always made me feel so welcome I didn’t even think about finding somewhere else. I only hoped we could protect each other ‘til whatever Daesung thought might happen…happened.</p><p>“Say, Jiyong.”</p><p>“Mm?” I was going through Seunghyun’s fridge, phone in one hand with the extension cord stretched to its limit round the kitchen chairs like that Greek guy tracing his path through the Labyrinth.</p><p>“You’d tell me if there was anything…wrong, wouldn’t you?” I started paying attention; I’d been wondering what I could make for Seunghyun with his meagre supplies. “With you or with us,” Minwoo clarified.</p><p>“Uh…course.” <em>Was</em> Minwoo jealous? Worried about our relationship? He’d never been concerned before, and instead of feeling flattered I was irritated: as if I wasn’t dealing with enough! “Look, I gotta go. Call you soon.”</p><p>“Okay.” He sounded slightly dejected, and I felt bad as I hung up. Then I locked the apartment and went to meet Seunghyun, and forgot all about it.</p><p> </p><p>We had a good time together that night; we made a special effort, as a kind of band-aid against what Daesung had told me and what might be happening over there. Seunghyun vetoed my suggestion that we go see Major and Minor.</p><p>“If the ritual’s on track we wouldn’t be able to get in – and they certainly wouldn’t appreciate the interruption.”</p><p>“What if it’s<em> not</em>?” It was still hard for me to conceive of the stakes involved in what they were doing, but if the books and horror movies told me anything I knew doing magick wrong could at the very least make you lose your mind. Seunghyun rubbed his knuckles worriedly.</p><p>“Then there’d be nothing we could do anyway.” Without thinking I took his hand to still his fidgeting and we sat for a moment with fingers touching. Then I amateurishly made kimchi fried rice and we stayed awake ‘til the small hours drinking and playing cards and talking. The sofa wasn’t the most comfortable spot, and my princess side had been tempted to accept Seunghyun’s offer to swap with me. I declined: just the idea of sleeping there, surrounded by his smell and the sense-memory of the bed, seemed so intimate to me that I understood it as a line I oughtn’t to cross. So I woke up grumpy with a stiff back (cracking my water glass with my mood in the process), but happily unchallenged by any supernatural creatures roaming the apartment.</p><p>Friday night we weren’t so lucky. I was sprawled on my back (probably snoring) when a loud, abrupt sound woke me: a door slamming open. I froze.</p><p>“<em>Jiyong</em>…”</p><p>“What is it?!” I mumbled, heart in my mouth as I shot up, the blanket I’d flung off in the heat tangling tentacle-like around my calves. Seunghyun was stumbling towards me in the dark.</p><p>“I saw another one…” he muttered, and his voice was unsteady: afraid. I reached out and slapped his flying-saucer lamp on; his face looked white and he was sweating. The sight made my hackles rise, a combination of paranoia and protectiveness.</p><p>“A dream? Another abduction?”</p><p>“I…I dunno. He had a black clipboard, and my room was…not like my room.” He came closer, away from the shadows by the wall. His hands were trembling – whatever this was, it was more than ‘only’ a dream. Just like before. I remembered what had happened at Youngbae’s and shuddered for him.</p><p>“A dwarf?” I said. “The Tall Man?”</p><p>“Just a big man, another bald one. But the clipboard was so black, and…shiny? Like infinity…” He seemed fixated on it. “He…he wanted to know <em>everything</em> about me. I can’t remember exactly what he said – only he was going to begin with my back; and he meant to do something <em>bad</em>.” Seunghyun’s rich voice cracked on the last word. I was terribly frightened, here in the dark with our living nightmares encroaching, and I could think of only one way to console him. I kicked the blanket off and opened my arms. Seunghyun strode forward without hesitation and dropped eagerly into my hug. I held him tight and he grasped me back, so hard it almost hurt but I didn’t care. He smelled of fear, and of familiarity and <em>life</em>; and we were gonna make sure it stayed that way.</p><p>“I’ve got you,” I told him in a whisper. Seunghyun buried his face in my shoulder and I pulled the covers around us to create a cocoon of safety.</p><p>“Thanks,” he said, muffled in my tshirt. I touched his hair; he didn’t seem to mind, we both wanted the comfort too bad to worry about my orientation or the increase in intimacy I’d been so wary of. Eventually he fell asleep. I stood guard, made myself stay awake; I had no doubt he’d need to do the same for me soon. I didn’t see anything myself that night. But I could <em>feel</em> it, not the signature hum of magical power but something harsher, and I began to think blankets and cuddles maybe weren’t enough: we needed better protection, psychological or otherwise. Daesung and Henry were unreachable in the midst of their ritual and nobody else would believe us. Perhaps it was time to break out the spell book.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the light of day I was able to put it off. Seunghyun went to work and I ventured out to meet Kyungho to do admin and give him some articles that needed submitting – Black Lodge notwithstanding, we had to make a living. Besides, the thought of me, Kwon Jiyong, attempting to <em>do</em> magick made me squirm uncomfortably; it sounded either preposterous or dangerous, depending on what mood I was in.</p><p>In the afternoon I dropped by Minwoo’s. After our last conversation I felt vaguely that I owed him an explanation, though I couldn’t imagine what it would be: ‘Babe, I’m being pursued by interdimensional evil, can we take a rain check on dinner?’ Ugh. Minwoo was too <em>normal</em>.</p><p>“I’ve got rather a lot going on,” he warned me when he let me in. I followed him back to his large studio room (my object of eternal envy), where he was doing some fabric printing on what looked like curtains. His hands were covered with burgundy ink; perhaps that was why he didn’t hug me. “Was it something important?”</p><p>“Just wanted to see you.” Being with Minwoo still made me feel grounded, and when he glanced up with a small smile I felt his down-to-earth aura surround me. I hunkered down on my heels. “I’ve had a lot going on lately too.” Talk about putting it mildly.</p><p>“A lot of what?” inquired Minwoo. My hands tightened on my knees and I could tell he’d noticed.</p><p>“Just…complicated stuff.”</p><p>“Stuff with Choi Seunghyun?”</p><p>“Yeah,” I admitted, scrunching up my face, “but it’s not like that. It’s…kind of awful, actually.” There was a contemplative silence while my lover made another potato stamp. I wondered if Seunghyun was home yet, if he was okay; he was so tired from his disrupted nights and I didn’t want him napping by himself. When I emerged from my reverie Minwoo had quit printing and was looking at me.</p><p>“Jiyong. You know I care for you, right?”</p><p>“Of course,” I said quietly.</p><p>“We’ve rubbed along nicely for years, no fights, no drama. How many guys like us can say that?” He was quite right: in a world where just having a relationship with a man automatically stacked the odds against you, we’d done pretty well. “So how about formalizing our connection a bit?” That made me swallow hard.</p><p>“You mean, like…get a dog or something?” The best child substitute a queer couple could hope for in those days. Minwoo smiled, teeth white under his moustache.</p><p>“Absolutely not! Hair all over the place.” Bummer. Instead he said: “Why not move in with me? There’s room for your wardrobe.” Oh. Oh, fuck – he <em>did</em> love me. After all these years wondering. I stared at him with what I imagine was a dumbstruck expression, concealing the fact that his invitation had instantly made me want to run. A stark mental contrast between his stylish apartment and the warm clutter of Seunghyun’s flashed across my mind – so very like the two men themselves. Minwoo was quiet, waiting.</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” I told him in a murmur. I didn’t wanna hurt him, and now I realized he <em>could</em> be hurt. He nodded.</p><p>“No rush.”</p><p>“…I’d better get back.”</p><p>“Mm-hm.” He didn’t press it; but it was plain he didn’t like it. I retreated from Minwoo’s beautiful home and high-tailed it back to the increasingly beleaguered flat with yet another weight on my shoulders. When I got there Seunghyun was waiting for me with takeout and an invitation to do laundry. The sight made me smile like I hadn’t all day.</p><p> </p><p>Seunghyun was pegging out clothes on the balcony (it was almost dark, but a logical approach to housework wasn’t much of a thing for my ufologist) and I was washing dishes when the phone rang. Every time it did I felt some pleasure (being proof the damn thing still worked) and some apprehension (‘cos, you know, MIBs). I picked up anyway, already enough at home here to answer Seunghyun’s calls.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Choi Seunghyun?” came a voice I recognized. I squinted sideways at the receiver, but as soon as I remembered where I’d heard it (only a million times on the TV) I put my hand over the mouthpiece and yelled for Seunghyun to join me.</p><p>“It’s Kwon Jiyong,” I said breathlessly while I waited. Seunghyun came in from the balcony and put his ear close to the receiver; he smelled of fabric softener. “We’re both here.”</p><p>“Good.” Yoo Jaesuk’s voice was so nationally recognizable there was no mistaking him. “I’m calling because your friends can’t. Daesung said you’d want reassuring.”</p><p>“They’re okay, right?” exclaimed Seunghyun.</p><p>“At the moment. But they can’t come out, and at this point it’s not safe for me to go in. I’ve spoken to Daesung through the door – and even that will be impossible soon.” His tone was very different to the upbeat MC I was used to seeing on my variety shows: he sounded deadly serious. “You understand things are very hard for them? Very dangerous?”</p><p>“Yes,” I whispered. I did believe that now.</p><p>“It’s going to happen to you too,” Jaesuk warned. “There’s a great deal to lose: your sanity would be the least of it.” He sure didn’t sugar-coat things.</p><p>“What should we do?” Seunghyun asked. His handsome jaw was clenched worriedly.</p><p>“Use the protection spells they gave you, with every bit of will you have. And if you care about your friends you’ll direct it at them as well. I’m doing what I can – but <em>you’re</em> at the centre.”</p><p>“We will.”</p><p>“If things get worse, stay inside. Make a safe space. These entities do not want to leave this plane, and if they’re forced to they’d prefer to take you with them.”</p><p>“How will we know it’s bad enough?” I ventured, thinking of Seunghyun’s work and my schedule, and how difficult it was to mix magick with the everyday world; Jaesuk must be very skillful to manage it.</p><p>“You’ll know.” His voice brightened a little, the encouraging tone I’d heard him use on TV. “But don’t lose hope – you’re not alone.” I glanced at Seunghyun, fear and stubbornness riding his handsome features, and took solace from the sight of him. Jaesuk said goodbye and hung up.</p><p>“Alright,” said Seunghyun, giving me a crooked smile, “let’s do some magick.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“I dunno why you think <em>I’m</em> the one to lead this,” I announced for the fifth time. He was delving in the big supply bag while I watched anxiously and fidgeted.</p><p>“Because Dae and Henry said so.” Seunghyun waved the thick pad of printer paper in my direction, setting out herbs and chalk and charcoal on the kitchen counter. “I’ll instruct you and we can both say the words. But <em>you’ve</em> got the power.”</p><p>“Hmm.” I still had reservations, despite the obvious urgency; not exactly because I was embarrassed, not anymore (how far I’d come!), but because I was now aware that doing these rites would make me stand out even more to anything with the ability to sniff out magick – it was like painting a target on my back.</p><p>“Anyway,” Seunghyun went on, fanning himself with the instructions, “you’re the artistic one.” I furrowed my eyebrows inquiringly and he beckoned to me. “Come here. We’ll do this together – but I need you.” And then of course I couldn’t say no.</p><p>It took ages: waiting for the prescribed time for each ritual; waving smouldering bunches of sage and other mysterious herbs around the flat; copying the large circular patterns made up of hundreds of intricate symbols that wriggled beneath my chalk as I drew them on the office floorboards; learning the pronunciation and meaning of the foreign incantations. Seunghyun talked me through everything, and as we repeated the words and gestures over and over ‘til they came as naturally as a childhood prayer (and with considerably more conviction) I began to feel the familiar humming sensation. It wasn’t much more than a low tingle: a purposeful version of the force that channelled through me to smash nearby glasses, but it was evidently enough to make Seunghyun point silently at my bare arms where the hair was standing up as if the room was freezing. I gazed at him wide-eyed across the largest chalk circle, and he gave me a solemn look in return.</p><p>“Feels like <em>mudang</em> Kim felt,” I said. “Same energy.”</p><p>“Cool!” He touched my hand, fascinated, as if he could feel the hum through my skin. Then (at his invitation) we clambered exhausted into his bed together, my hand gentle on his arm like a lifeline. We waited to see if our hard work had paid off, talking softly in the glow of the lamp. And indeed there were no nightmares and no shadows that night.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>For the next two days we spent almost all our time together: we’d wake up, cobble together breakfast before Seunghyun exercised with his free-weights and I pretended to join in; refresh the incantations, then head to his shift at the bookstore, where I would sketch or write articles and listen to Mr. Won complain about my hair. One evening we went to the KUFOS meeting and enjoyed the sensation of having a room full of dorks tell us we were insane for even thinking about the occult (the only consolation was that Seunghyun never left my side and didn’t look at Hyunjae at all). But otherwise we followed Jaesuk’s advice and shut ourselves up at home, watching vapid entertainment on TV with every light on to minimize the shadows. I constructed several beautiful garments on Seunghyun’s perfect clotheshorse body. Yet in spite of the protection spells the unease grew back, so much so that we’d sit pressed together on the sofa in the evening and in the same bed at night. I wasn’t even worrying about sex anymore; we were simply seeking comfort in each other. All in all we were as close as two people can be without one of us actually being inside the other. And yes, for me there was some physical pleasure in it – how could there not be? But the arousal was no match for the steady build of fear.</p><p>“It’s coming,” I told Seunghyun when we got home to find the apartment building wrapped in black tarpaulins and scaffolding: emergency repairs, said the notice. It darkened the place, and when we set foot inside I knew that was intentional. Seunghyun didn’t call me paranoid but drew me closer to him.</p><p>“…I think I feel it too.”</p><p>“Fuck,” I said fervently. “I hope the guys are okay.”</p><p>“Fuck is right.” Seunghyun peered through the black plastic at the narrow slit of outside world. “Let’s hope we will be too.”</p><p>The next sign that things were coming to a head was our phone line going down. When I visited Seunghyun’s neighbour she said hers was fine, but the second I tried to call my mum the dial tone went dead. The third sign was the weather, the final glimpses of late summer sun disappearing as the long-threatened storm approached, silencing the local wildlife and giving me blinding headaches. The apartment grew even darker and the moving shadows crept back.</p><p>The fourth sign was unmistakable: I almost got killed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I’d been experiencing the déjà vu for days now; nothing major, just the familiar feeling of having read this headline about industrial strikes before or seeing that exact bird flit past the window. Seunghyun said he was sure it meant <em>something</em> but compared to the nightmares and the worsening weather it seemed relatively benign. He’d begged the day off work and persuaded me to postpone a meeting with a magazine editor, so all I had to do was run to the supermarket under the lowering clouds – I couldn’t wait to get home to him. Neither of us had managed to become bored with the other, I reflected as I waited at the traffic lights, shopping bags in hand. We argued about how much fast food one man can stomach in twenty-four hours (hence my current trip for back-breakingly heavy veg), but other than that our cohabitation was running as smoothly as could be expected, given the hanging bunches of herbs and symbols on the floor I was forbidden to vacuum.</p><p>The light turned green and I stepped off the curb, worrying again about Daesung and Henry. We hadn’t heard from Jaesuk (no surprise with our phone line down), and all I could do was cross my fingers that he was watching over us all – him, or something even stronger. One of the local grandpas gave me a brief wave from the other side of the street (I’d attracted plenty of attention after only a week at Seunghyun’s place, though luckily my charm made up for my delinquent appearance). It threw me off my train of thought, and –</p><p>The light turned green and I stepped off the curb, worrying again about Daesung and Henry. We hadn’t heard from… Wait. Another bloody déjà vu! But this was different, this… I frowned and looked up: the light was <em>red</em>, and I could hear a noise that sounded like –</p><p>I pinned it as the grumble of an old engine at the same moment the car made contact with my side. For a second the familiar street spun, and it wasn’t 'til later that I understood it was <em>me</em> spinning with the impact. Then I was on my back, my ribs and hip so painful my brain quickly shut everything down ‘til I was numb. Thus it was with serenity that I watched the black sedan drive leisurely away down the road towards a distant protest crowd, its bumper emblazoned with right-wing political stickers. Fuck. Black Lodge. Briefly I wondered if they’d killed me, but my consciousness didn’t seem to be going anywhere; and apart from the chill of the asphalt the mental dissociation made me feel quite comfortable.</p><p>“Boy?” The old man who’d waved at me homed into view above me. “Did you get the number plate?” Talk about priorities. I shook my head, hoping someone more on the ball had noticed and gone to call me an ambulance. “Black cars,” he then said knowingly. “American. Government.” I furrowed my eyebrows in an attempt to decipher if he <em>knew </em>something, if this was another sign; but no, he was just a nice if slightly vague old guy.</p><p>“…Hospital?” I managed calmly. He glanced away from me and nodded; the sound of sirens confirmed it. As the EMTs laid their hands on me there came a blinding stab of agony, and the feeling that something inside me was badly wrong; then my mind allowed me to retreat from the situation, and for a long minute I went away.</p><p>Waking up in the back of the ambulance <em>felt</em> like déjà vu but wasn’t: this had happened before, the night of the disco ball. They must have given me something for the (absent again) pain, because I felt woozy and a bit inclined to giggle while they reassured me and asked if I could move all my limbs. Apparently I could: one of the paramedics (a rare-at-the-time woman with greying hair and luminous pale skin) smiled at me, gloved hand roaming gently along my side; every place she touched me immediately felt better.</p><p>“You’re going to have a tough time a little longer,” she said. “But it’ll be over before you know it.”</p><p>“…Oh yeah?” I replied, feeling fluffy and inappropriately nonchalant. She reached over and patted my hand.</p><p>“Where there’s a will there’s a way.” I blinked up at her. In doing so I caught sight of her badge – and wouldn’t you know it, it read ID No. 93. Unfortunately I was too spaced out to be curious this time; it was all I could do to think about her last statement and interpret it as meaningful. I didn’t ask any questions, I simply beamed at her. “If I were you,” she added, lightly touching my ribs, “I’d hole up at home for a while; give the healing process the time it needs.” It didn’t take the hour of painful prodding and bandaging at the hospital for me to decide that was very good advice.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Given that I’d been hit by a car I was in remarkably fine shape: painful and very ugly bruising down my left side and hip, but none of the smashed ribs or permanent damage I’d felt so certain of. I’d been very surprised to hear it. Seunghyun, on the other hand, put it all down to the mysterious EMT 93, interpreting (probably correctly) my commonplace traffic accident as a tug-of-war between Black and White Lodges – a sign that something <em>was</em> on our side. He was even more willing than me to take the woman’s advice: the horror and regret on his perfect face (he’d been the one who suggested I go buy ‘health food’) when he came to collect me was not a sight I wished to see repeated.</p><p>“Jaesuk was right,” he said fiercely once I was ensconced on the sofa with blankets and hot chocolate and the TV guide. “It’s getting too dangerous out there: we need to seal ourselves off ‘til this is over – and try to stop them getting inside.” He’d loaded the car with groceries on our way home from the hospital. Now I got why.</p><p>“Hey, no argument from me.”</p><p>That night we did the simple purification rituals again to make sure there was nothing that could get trapped in the flat with us. Seunghyun took charge of the pacing and waving and bowing while I chanted out the rites the way Major and Minor had instructed. It was easier this time – we were working as a unit now, and my throbbing ribs focused all my willpower into it.</p><p>“All right,” continued Seunghyun, flipping through the sheaf of paper. “Now we have to create a barrier.” His big eyes met mine. “And once it’s done – if we do it properly – we won’t be allowed out ‘til this is <em>finished</em>. One way or the other.” He peered searchingly into my face and evidently found the necessary fortitude in my expression. “Great – I knew you wouldn’t be scared!” I was. Seunghyun passed me a couple of pages. “Study this. I’ll run you through the pronunciation while I set up.”</p><p>I read the instructions as he dumped supplies on the coffee table: the big tubs of salt, the compass, candles, feathers, a stone, a bowl of water. The ritual began with setting up the basic protection as we’d done before: casting a new circle, requesting the cooperation of the elements. I felt like a pro by now (if Youngbae saw me he’d have a fit). But the main stage was different – this time we were effectively building a <em>cage</em>, which would not only (hopefully) keep the Black Lodge out but would also lock <em>us</em> in.</p><p>“Ready?” Seunghyun asked. I held out both hands and he squeezed them, dark eyes anxious. Then I placed the script on the sofa back so I could recite and do the gestures at the same time. Taking a deep breath I said:</p><p>“Do it.”</p><p>I put every bit of will I had behind those foreign words that seemed to vibrate on my tongue – and every bit of love. Watching Seunghyun’s determined shoulders as he poured an unbroken line of salt around the inner edges of the apartment, I felt an overwhelming rush of protectiveness – this man had so much faith, in <em>me</em>. I had to prove him right. The further that snake of salt progressed around the walls and window frames the more the sense of power grew. The hum was stronger than before, and at some stage passed the point of feeling pleasant into something else. I was too busy getting the ritual right to analyze exactly when it turned uncomfortable, but all of a sudden my mouth tasted of iron and a headache was drilling into my skull.</p><p>“Keep going,” Seunghyun ordered breathlessly, emerging from the bathroom to grab the second tub of salt. “Christ, you’ve gone white.” I wanted to tell him it hurt but I couldn’t stop chanting so gave him a nod and gasped out another line, hoping this meant it was taking effect. “I’m closing it!” he announced shortly afterwards. I squeezed my eyes shut and spoke the final words of the ritual. It was an effort to get the syllables out through the hum that had risen to judder me from my toes to my teeth. When I’d done it there was a pause – then an explosive sense of release that was less like an orgasm than a full-body sneeze. My eyes flew open to see Seunghyun straightening up with the empty tub.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” I gasped, “that was <em>weird</em>!” Was it meant to be like that? I was so clueless about magick and the sensation was so peculiar that I had no idea what it meant. My side was throbbing again; but there was a solid line of salt surrounding us. “Think it worked?” I asked.</p><p>“We’ll know by morning. Don’t try opening the door.” My knight in tshirt and sweatpants helped me back to the couch. The sun had gone down and the tarpaulins were flapping against the side of the building. We sat crowded together drinking red wine, and I was so drained I quickly fell asleep. When I woke up Seunghyun was carrying me to the bedroom; another blink and we were in bed, his arm lightly resting across my hip. I wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure but it felt wonderful: peaceful in spite of the dark.</p><p>“…Wonder if it’ll hold,” I murmured. Seunghyun’s hand squeezed my elbow, and I was out like a light.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>We slept the night through for the first time in days, which I figured meant <em>something</em> had worked. The room was gloomy when I opened my eyes, but with the suspicious construction equipment up our walls and the unseasonal storms that was no surprise. I didn’t feel great at the idea of being trapped; still, it sure was better than being hit by a car. I winced as I clambered out of bed, leaving Seunghyun flopped out like a Newfoundland on his stomach. A quick round of the apartment revealed nothing of note; the line of salt was untouched. So: coffee, applying liniment to bruises, grooming, toast.</p><p>It wasn’t ‘til I drew back the net curtain to check on the weather that I realized something had happened. I peered outside, not optimistic that the storm was passing (I could still hear it lashing the windows), and through a crack in the black tarpaulin I was stumped to see…a whole lot of nothing. Not that the rain had stopped; there just wasn’t anything beyond it, only formless grey. A shiver went down my bruised side.</p><p>“Is it fog?” I asked after yelling for Seunghyun to wake up and join me. He stared through the glass, eyes wide.</p><p>“No.” His grip on the curtain was turning his knuckles white. The greyness seemed to go on forever: no ground, no sky, no horizon. There was a thoughtful silence. Then: “It’s possible that…er. I don’t think we’re exactly in the world anymore.” At this stage nothing sounded mad, and I accepted his diagnosis as perfectly possible: who <em>hadn’t </em>woken up to find themselves in dimensional limbo? Outside the torrential rain continued from nowhere into nowhere.</p><p>“Was it the ritual?”</p><p>“…I don’t know.”</p><p>“Wonder how long it’ll last.” Oddly enough I found the sight more depressing than scary; I let the curtain drop and gravitated instead to the central protection circle in his book room. Seunghyun followed me.</p><p>“Until Dae and Henry win. Or ‘til <em>they</em> find us.” I thought of our supplies (both magical and nutritional) and wondered if we could hold out. We had no more cards up our sleeves, this spell to seal us away had been our ace – if we hadn’t screwed it up completely.</p><p>“So what do we do in the meantime?” I said helplessly. Seunghyun shrugged.</p><p>“You could finish making that suit. If we ever get out of here I’m taking you to dinner.” That made me laugh: finally, a date? Just making it out alive would be enough for me.</p><p>“The Plaza?” I suggested, heading for my work bag to find the pattern. Seunghyun grinned at me.</p><p>“Wherever you like.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Think you’ll get fired?” I asked absently next morning, having peered through the curtains to find the same endless grey. Seunghyun glanced up from his notebook, yawning.</p><p>“Probably. Don’t suppose this is gonna do <em>you</em> much good, either.”</p><p>“I’ll definitely lose some commissions.” And God knew what my family and friends thought had happened (if in fact they’d noticed I was gone). I threaded my needle and began constructing the shoulder pads for Seunghyun’s new jacket: charcoal grey wool, perfect for autumn, assuming we ever got back to it. Inside the airless apartment we didn’t need clothes at all (though I’d dressed up a little, to give him something pretty to look at).</p><p>“Your boyfriend’ll be worried.” I opened my mouth to remind him he’d said that just now, then realized it was another déjà vu. Crap – that wasn’t a good sign: the giddying repeat of moments was what had got me run over, so I was pretty sure I knew where it was coming from. Were they trying to find their way past the barrier?!</p><p>“Minwoo’s not exactly my boyfriend.” I’d definitely said <em>that</em> before. I jabbed a pin back in its cushion with more force than necessary. “Although…he <em>did</em> ask me to move in with him. Before we got stuck here.”</p><p>“Oh!” Seunghyun looked up again and observed me intently; he’d been watching me a lot lately (not that there were many other scenic options) – concerned for my wellbeing as always.</p><p>“I told him I’d think about it.”</p><p>“That’ll be nice. I guess.”</p><p>“But…I don’t want to. Not really.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Seunghyun again, returning his attention to his journal. As he did so I thought I caught the edge of a smile. Now what was that? The kind of relief Youngbae expressed whenever I backed away from acting too overtly queer? Or… My heart tripped a little, excited at the possibilities of that <em>or</em>, and I was gearing up to draw him out on it when I saw him stiffen. The hair on the back of my neck began to prickle. “Jiyong,” he said in an undertone, “is there something behind me?” I stared around the living room, holding my breath.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Good. Good.” But even as he said it a shape passed the window, its shadow gliding across the ceiling through the crack in the tarp.</p><p>“Could be a bird,” I offered with a sinking feeling in my stomach.</p><p>“It’s fine, Ji,” he told me bravely. “As long as nothing gets inside. We knew using magick might make them notice us – we just have to make sure the barrier holds.” I nodded and went to prepare lunch as if I hadn’t a care in the world (though I wasn’t at all certain we were there anymore). The last thing we needed was cracks appearing in our strong front, so I kept to myself the thoughts I was sure had occurred to him too: that this empty void was <em>theirs</em>, that we were now close to the dimension that housed the Black Lodge itself, and that they’d used our amateur spell-casting to bring us here. We were stuck here, and for better or worse this was going to play out. All we could do was hang on to each other.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I lost track of time after that. Seunghyun thought it’d been three days since we did the salt ritual, but as there was no sun to rise or set and both our watches and the TV had quit working while we slept it was really anyone’s guess. The double-ups in time didn’t help: I’d pass Seunghyun the gochujang and a second later find myself doing it again.</p><p>“Hand me the tofu?” requested Seunghyun (I was teaching him to cook).</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“You didn’t.” We looked at each other and his jaw went tight. “…It’s getting bad with you, isn’t it.”</p><p>“Yeah,” I admitted; I was losing the plot completely. So much for my strong front.</p><p>“I had a nightmare last night. The Tall Man, and I couldn’t move.”</p><p>“Shit.” I slid my arm through his and we stood watching the stew bubble.</p><p>“So long as they can’t get in,” he repeated. I silently wondered whether the barrier could keep them from coming through our dreams like Freddy Krueger. It didn’t seem helpful to ask: there was nothing we could do about it.</p><p>Soon the déjà vu was so intense I barely knew the present from the past; I felt even more disconnected from reality than when I’d first looked out of the window onto nothing. It was driving me crazy not being able to clean the place and re-establish my sense of mental order; but I couldn’t risk disturbing the salt. Every few hours Seunghyun made me take a nap, so that when <em>he</em> slept I could watch over him for any signs of Men in Black emerging. I kept the curtains closed, certain that outside there were <em>things</em> circling: every time they passed the shadows inside grew darker. I was familiar with the pattern now: each ritual we’d done made things better for a hot second before gradually wearing off. We just weren’t strong enough to free ourselves for good.</p><p>I was so disoriented after a while that I didn’t notice when the earthquakes began – I thought it was a dizzy spell from the hot shower I’d been taking (thank God the amenities hadn’t been cut off when the flat was removed from reality; funny how things work, isn’t it). It was only when Seunghyun stuck his head round the bathroom door and didn’t even look away when he saw me in my towel that my heart began pounding.</p><p>“It’s not you,” he said bluntly as I held on to the sink. “The floor’s shaking.” It stopped while he was still speaking but the cord on the bathroom light continued its ominous sway.</p><p>“Can you see anything outside?” He shook his head.</p><p>I was in the bathroom again when the second tremor began. For a moment I assumed it was more déjà vu, until the roll increased enough to shake the pots in Seunghyun’s cabinets. It felt slow but massive, like the rumble of the road before the bridge collapse; I crouched down, protecting myself with my arms and yelling out to Seunghyun to do the same. Something fell on my head but it was only a toothbrush. Okay. I crawled out of the bathroom, down the hallway and into the living room where Seunghyun was kneeling behind the sofa. He popped up like a meerkat and beckoned me over.</p><p>“Mind the bookcase!” I shuffled across to him, accompanied by the chime of crockery from the kitchen. The high bookshelves were shuddering above me as he caught me by the arm and pulled me to safety. “Sorry!” he added when I hissed; my ribs throbbed in protest.</p><p>“‘S okay.” We peeked out at the room; the shaking intensified and was followed by the sound of smashing plates. “It can’t go on much longer…” I tried to assure Seunghyun as he jumped.</p><p>“It’s not an earthquake,” he reminded me, and he was right: they were trying to shake us out like we were bugs in a box. “They want the barrier down!”</p><p>“But the ritual-” A tremor and a tremendous creaking cut me off. The sound was coming from <em>outside</em>, where the scaffolding cut off our view of where the world should be. One huge crash, and the quaking slowed to a standstill. In unison we rushed to the window and ripped the curtains back: the tarpaulins were gone. We looked out on the endless grey, the disembodied rain and thunder a constant backdrop to our isolation. Without the scaffolding the bleakness of our situation slammed me in the chest. I sucked in a breath and groped for Seunghyun’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>There was another earthquake in the night – though whether it was <em>actually</em> night I could no longer say. I was awake anyway ‘cos Seunghyun was having one of his MIB dreams and I was stroking his hair; the contact often helped him come out of it. I’d smashed two glasses necking soju after the scaffolding came down. It had frightened Seunghyun, and no wonder: it was clear I was losing my cool, and in a magick user that is not a happy event.</p><p>My friend whimpered in his sleep. Another crash resounded from the living room but he was so distressed I couldn’t leave him (I was too scared to go look by myself anyway). At last he shouted out some foreign word and started up, sweating.</p><p>“It was a dream,” I murmured while the tremors died down. Seunghyun clutched at my tshirt.</p><p>“They’re not here?”</p><p>“Uh-uh.” He sighed. “But something else toppled over out there.” He began to struggle out of bed.</p><p>“Don’t. There’s nothing we can do. For a few more hours let’s just…pretend we’re okay.” Seunghyun flopped back, rolling over to face me.</p><p>“I don’t wanna go back to those dreams – I’m not as brave as you.” He was kidding, right? A flash of repeat vision overtook me: the trusting look he was giving me, his damp hand hot against my wrist. I forced myself to ignore the doubling sensation.</p><p>“So tell me a story,” I suggested encouragingly. “A good KUFOS story.” For an instant Seunghyun beamed at me, the old naïve smile of a man awaiting his first big encounter; the expression that had charmed me beyond all reason the first time I interviewed him. We lay together in the aftershocks and shared weird and wonderful tales from outer space. More shadows slunk in, as if to voice their disapproval at the resurgence of Seunghyun’s curiosity and passion, but we ignored them. I knew it would be the last time they’d let us – that the next day would bring something worse. Until then, though, I intended to treasure the presence of my beautiful eccentric friend. We might never get the chance again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>We woke up at some point (Seunghyun now equally clueless as to what day it was) and padded cautiously out of the bedroom. The apartment had gotten darker. I stepped into the living room to check on the void and soon discovered what the crash had been: the curtain rods had been shaken down, leaving the windows bare and us unable to hide. The dreary nothingness outside stared through me; I felt naked.</p><p>“Why’s it so dark?” I asked, shivering. The room looked like it was the middle of the night, despite the absence of curtains. Seunghyun squinted through the dimness and gulped in a breath.</p><p>“The salt!” He rushed to the heap of curtains where they’d fallen to the floor, and following him I saw the fabric had dragged at our line of protection, scattering it across the window sill. “Get more,” ordered Seunghyun; the line was still there, but faint, and I guessed that was exactly the point of these quakes (apart from the possibility of death by furniture). I ran to the kitchen and fumbled around blind for the salt shaker, mumbling what words I could remember from the ritual as Seunghyun redrew the barrier. The instant I stopped reciting my attention was caught by movement outside the window: a tail-end of black that slipped past the glass against the grey.</p><p>“Seunghyun!” I grabbed him by the wrist and backed away ‘til we hit the sofa. The second time around he saw it, a formless smear that passed the window and darkened the room even further.</p><p>“It’s weak there now,” said Seunghyun through gritted teeth, nodding at our patch-up job. “And they know it.”</p><p>“What do we do?!” The shadow flitted past again, slower this time, as if tantalizing me with its shape. “Start over from scratch?” My hands were shaking: we didn’t have enough salt or enough <em>time</em>. “If you’ve got a torch we could-” Seunghyun’s whine of fright cut me off – it was the same noise he made in his dreams. The black blur was passing again, and this time it slowed to a hover. There, standing on nothing and bending its spine to peer through the window, was the Tall Man. It saw us: met my eyes and I stopped blinking, transfixed. I knew then that this wasn’t a nightmare; it didn’t even feel like when I’d woken up at Bae’s to find them at the foot of my bed. Here they were <em>solid</em>, more real than us with our meagre flesh and blood. The space beyond our fragile barrier was theirs – and if they got through it would be the end of us.</p><p>Behind me Seunghyun was breathing quick and shallow as another entity swam into view beside the Tall Man; it was the other one, the MIB without a face, only now I could <em>see</em> it and I wanted to throw up. Another figure, smaller: the twisted version of my singing dwarf. Then behind it another, a woman, and another and another until I was certain they were surrounding the entire apartment, forming themselves out of the endless grey wastes.</p><p>“Seunghyun…” I spoke faintly, a lurch of terror that wasn’t primal but something even deeper – not the fear of death but a fate much worse. As it registered I saw the window pane shudder; another earthquake?</p><p>My friend fumbled for my hand and grabbed it; his fingers were shaking but he squeezed me urgently, ‘til it hurt. No, not a quake, I realized: it was my own chaotic power threatening to manifest. The Tall Man pressed its smooth white face against the window and the glass shivered again. The panic and disgust I felt was overwhelming; I couldn’t rip my gaze away from its eyes, and I sensed it liked it – as if it wanted to eat my fear. Then Seunghyun was yanking me round to face him and I could have wept at the contrast of his perfect features. A strange sound behind me had me shaking in his grip.</p><p>“I need you to stay calm,” Seunghyun told me, both my hands in his as he tried to repress the agitation in his voice at the sight of his nightmares surrounding our home. “You can’t break the windows, they’ll get in!” I was vibrating with both pain and anger but he grasped me firmly, lovely eyes steady as he gazed into mine. “They feed on our suffering – but I’ll protect you,” he said deliberately. “As long as I can. So just breathe, and let’s keep the barrier up.” I breathed, but as I did so his eyes widened and I couldn’t help but look.</p><p>Around the window frame the walls were beginning to bulge. The room was decorated with late 1970s wallpaper in a geometric pattern; as we watched it started curving inwards, forming the shapes of heads, limbs…other things I had no name for. It was impossible that steel and concrete should move like that, and the current of my fear rose to my throat. The glass was rattling again; in sympathy another quake began until my teeth rattled in tandem with the pane. The Tall Man hadn’t moved, its features distorted against the window, still staring at us while its fellow Black Lodge creatures sought a way in.</p><p>“There too!” Seunghyun gesticulated at the ceiling, which was descending in a confusion of moving protrusions. Without meaning to I screamed; a crack appeared in the window. “Into the bedroom!” he ordered as it spread, a hitch in his voice that made him sound close to tears. As we retreated I cursed myself for never having learned to control my ridiculous ability – I was supposed to be the one with the power, and what had I done to protect him?</p><p>I slammed the bedroom door and in pitch darkness dragged a heavy box of books in front of it while Seunghyun hit the light: nothing. The room had no windows, for safety it was the best option, but the dark was abhorrent to me.</p><p>“<em>Quick</em>!” I begged as he careered around the room. Outside I heard the crash of glass and burst into tears – screw being brave, this was intolerable! Then a circle of light appeared on the wall and Seunghyun was stumbling towards me with one of his many tactical flashlights; in the orange glow his eyes were so wide I could see the whites all round. “They’re <em>in</em>,” I told him, choking back my tears.</p><p>“Cast a circle,” he snapped, shaking me as the room shook around us. “Come on!” I had no chalk, no occult items and no script; but I did it. The circle we made was invisible, conjured from sheer desperation and prayer: in that moment I was ready to believe in <em>anything</em> that could save us. The door handle rattled – something was outside. A pounding on the wood panels followed, and on the walls, the floor, the ceiling, so that I couldn’t tell where the quaking came from; the noise was deafening. I put my hand over my mouth and bit my tongue to stop myself screaming again (not that I could have heard it over the racket); I was certain this was <em>it</em> for us. A huge lurch sent me staggering and I would have fallen if Seunghyun hadn’t caught me. The flashlight clattered away to illuminate the embattled wall.</p><p>“Jiyong, I’m sorry!!” he told me in the half-light, lovely face glowing with remorse – and perhaps, just perhaps, something more. I stared up at him. “I dragged you into this – <em>I</em> brought all this on you.” I burst out laughing at that, I couldn’t help myself, ‘cos he <em>had</em> and I didn’t care. Screw it, I thought wildly: I would never have another chance.</p><p>“You fucking idiot!” I yelled in his face, and at his despairing look: “<em>I love you</em>!” For an eternity Seunghyun stared at me as if I was a bona fide alien myself; I wanted to cry, but I was still laughing, while around us the forces of Hell (or whatever-the-hell) battered at the doors and rattled the foundations. “…You’re the love of my life,” I told him beneath the din. Panic and elation at finally getting it out. Seunghyun opened his mouth – closed it – tightened his grip on my shoulders and shook me. Then he kissed me.</p><p>The second his lips met mine a tremor went through me that had nothing to do with our attackers and yet was vastly more devastating; as if I could fall apart from his touch. This wasn’t a schlocky romance-novel metaphor, it had nothing to do with his skill or lack thereof. The impact was purely spiritual, the satisfaction of a yearning I’d harboured since the day I met him. The combination of desire and imminent danger has always been explosive; add to that the hum of power surging through me to meet his kiss, and it was intense enough that the incursions of the Men in Black suddenly seemed…unimportant.</p><p>“…You <em>love me</em>?” said Seunghyun dazedly, and I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck to steady us both. How had he not imagined that was possible?! One of his hands traced my face as if he’d never seen me before; I took it and cupped it around my cheek, pressing my lips to his palm.</p><p>“You <em>idiot</em>.” A rumble shook the floor and we clutched at each other. He kissed me again, teeth knocking against mine as his hands slid down my back, wondering, marvelling. “Seunghyun.” I leaned into his grip. “I want this to be the last thing I remember,” I whispered. His nose nuzzled against my cheek. “…Let’s go out with a bang!” He laughed his gorgeous low laugh into my neck; his voice was shaking, but he nodded. Oh, <em>this </em>was the miracle, that I could have this just once before the end!</p><p>“You changed my life,” muttered Seunghyun fervently, reading my mind – that was <em>my</em> line. A sharp quake knocked us to our knees but I barely felt it when he announced: “And I love <em>you</em>!”</p><p>It was both awkward as a first time and natural as if we’d been together thirty years. I didn’t know whether Seunghyun was caught up in a kind of do-or-die moment or if he’d truly come to desire me before all this began; it didn’t seem to matter. I’d had better lovers in my life, but nothing like so much love. From our knees we were jolted to the floor and I winced as my injured side hit. Seunghyun slid both arms around me to cushion me and I melted beneath him in the dual protections of the magick circle and the magic of his embrace.</p><p>“Can I?” he mumbled, low voice soft against my collarbone as he touched the hem of my tshirt. I nodded eagerly and he slipped it upwards; his fingers skimmed my bruises delicately before tugging the fabric over my head. “…I never thought,” said Seunghyun, his lips skimming a reverent path along my ribs. I made a questioning sound that turned into a gasp. “That it would feel like <em>this</em>,” he clarified. I closed my fingers in his floppy hair and pressed up into the caress, frantic for closeness while we had the chance.</p><p>“I always dreamed it would.” I wanted to touch him in return, the flawless body that housed what I had come to believe was my soulmate. Seunghyun kissed me, paused as I set my fingers to his pyjama buttons, then nodded. I was so excited I almost forgot to breathe: there he was, perfection. And, for these last moments, <em>mine</em>.</p><p>The floor was hard and jumping. Somehow we got ourselves onto the bed, where the covers had been churned up by Seunghyun’s nightmares.</p><p>“I’m…not really sure how to do this,” Seunghyun admitted (though with his hands already drawing down my sweatpants). “I want you to feel good…”</p><p>“Trust me.” I could barely see him outside the circle of torchlight; but I could feel, and oh, that was everything: the heat of his skin, the organic movement of his muscles against my flesh that proved we didn’t belong here in this dismal dimension. His likeness to me that drew us together, here at the end of the line. “You always want to learn,” I whispered, drawing him into me as a furious thump on the door registered the MIBs’ disgust with that sentiment. “I’ll teach you <em>everything</em>.” And I did; but he taught me as much, and it was perfect.</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know if what we did was ‘sex magick’ in the Crowley sense. But if Daesung’s right and magick is will plus ritual, perhaps it was: the way Seunghyun touched me in that room was a kind of worship, his whispers into my skin a spell, while my entire being was concentrated on him, how he moved above me to a beat as old and essential as evolution; on the way we came together, my only goal to take us away from the reality of whatever darkness was trying so violently to reach us. And you know what? I really think we did something – we made something happen. Or we made something <em>stop</em>.</p><p>Seunghyun grit his teeth as his orgasm hit, and I kissed him, muffling my yell at that same ecstatic high, all thoughts of shaking walls and Black Lodges obliterated. Never before had I felt such a sense of connection to another human, and as his mouth met mine I found myself back in my dream: white flowers, euphoria, <em>enlightenment</em>. Only this time it didn’t stop, and that was how I knew we’d done magick. We broke off; Seunghyun’s eyes were as wide as mine. The light spread after all that endless dark, stilling the occult tempest around us as it touched every corner of the room. I could see where it coalesced, a bright portal at the door to the hallway; above the lintel was the faint circle of a moon like the one we’d seen in the cave so long ago. Was this Daesung and Henry completing their ritual at last and saving our bacon with pure dark-destroying radiance? Had that even been part of their plan? Or had <em>we</em> done this – together?</p><p>“Seunghyun…” I whispered, unsure how to voice what I suddenly wanted – what I suddenly felt we had to do.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” said Seunghyun urgently, as if my thoughts were clear as a bell. He disentangled our limbs and stepped easily off the bed, completely disregarding his own nudity. Turning back to me he held out his hand. “Let’s go!” I took it without reservation, knowing that if we stepped forward something would <em>happen</em> to us, something my small terrestrial self could not at this moment imagine; but that if we let it we would know everything – <em>everything</em>. And it could save us. My curiosity overwhelmed me; we <em>had</em> to go. “I love you,” Seunghyun said again, and if there were ever magick words they were those. My eyes grew damp with sheer affection, the tears a prism that dazzled me in the growing brightness. I squeezed his hand.</p><p>“Come on, then.”</p><p>We walked forward in unison, and were swallowed by the light.</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/PCYKnvD.png">  </a>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you want to see what a proper large-scale occult ritual is like in all its danger and boredom and psychological fuckery, I recommend the Irish movie <em>A Dark Song</em>, which shows the process of a long (like 8-month) ritual undertaken by a woman who wants to invoke a guardian angel to get revenge on the men who killed her child. It's not balls-to-the-wall horror, but I think it gets across the unsettling feeling I wanted to convey in this fic.</p><p>So they finally, finally got there! I hope the GTOP slow burn paid off even though the sex scene wasn't so explicit ^^<br/>Expect some fluff next week :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which the boys wake up and get on with life.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a fluffy epilogue :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If any aliens, poltergeists or Men in Black tried anything after that, we didn’t notice. I don’t know if we were even <em>there</em> – it was all like a dream. I woke after what seemed like years with my head pillowed on Seunghyun’s chest, and smugly assumed they’d been too amazed by our Olympic-level banging to make another move. Yeah, I know, I was being glib, but it’s not as if I was trying to cheapen that transcendent experience; I was just giddied at waking up alive, at the lingering feeling of knowing everything – what this had all meant, what White Lodge and Black Lodge and humans and magick were <em>for</em>. The pattern of the universe and my place in it. We’d been shown it all, in that white place, and the light was only just fading from my sight.</p>
<p>Even without getting up to look – I wouldn’t move from this spot for all the magical power in the world – I knew we were back. A minute later a car horn sounded angrily outside and I broke into a grin of complete joy: the mundanity of it! A neighbour’s door slammed and a salaryman leaving for work shouted something to his wife. God, it was sublime. I leaned up on my elbow to look at Seunghyun, his sleeping face in the dim line of sunlight that filtered through the badly-hung door. Probably at this time I should’ve been having a personal crisis: had our intimacy been real and not just a quest for comfort in a time of danger? Even if it <em>had</em> been real, could it survive in this humdrum world of humans and their petty prejudice? Had I (God forbid) dreamed the entire thing?</p>
<p>“…Jiyong.” Seunghyun’s ridiculous lashes fluttered; as he opened his eyes he smiled at me, arm tightening around my waist. Even before that, though, I’d known deep down that I had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t just that I trusted his goodness; I <em>knew</em>. Our time together in the light was a luminous blur and I couldn’t remember what we’d learned; but it had left its mark on me and I calmly accepted the knowledge that Seunghyun and I were <em>real</em>.</p>
<p>“Hey,” I said. His smile widened, faintly puzzled but blissful.</p>
<p>“I remember…”</p>
<p>“Do you?” He frowned a little, then shook his head.</p>
<p>“No. But I can almost see it.” He pulled me back down to join him, threaded our fingers together. I was beaming so hard my face hurt. “And I know what it means.”</p>
<p>“It means they’re gone,” I agreed. A police car slid by outside, siren blaring. Christ, that smile: it held every bit of light we’d seen.</p>
<p>“And we’re here.”</p>
<p>We lay there for a bit listening to the sounds of the city, its mood on edge and peace tenuous as usual; it was like sweet music compared to the dullness of the eternal rain and low thunder of that place. It was probably time to get up and find out what’d been happening, but I had absolutely no desire to do so.</p>
<p>“Seunghyun,” I murmured instead, nuzzling closer into his shoulder. “…Can we get a dog?” Now where did <em>that</em> come from? A pause, then he chuckled.</p>
<p>“Sure.” It took me a minute to understand the import of what I’d gone ahead and said without thinking. My big mouth! That I’d assumed we’d… Wait, he said yes? Of course: it was all okay, better than okay. The light had told me.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” I lifted my head. Seunghyun smiled and I felt a sense of surety, of ease.</p>
<p>“Yeah. But not a little yappy one – he has to be big enough to wrestle. And big enough to protect us.” Perhaps he meant to protect us as a couple, from people who might come at us for it. These were damn revolutionary thoughts for me: the assumption that we were <em>gonna</em> be a couple now, and the idea that I might be bold enough to let the world know it! But I wanted to – I wanted to tell <em>everyone</em>. When I asked Seunghyun he reassured me instantly.</p>
<p>“Tell whoever you want, Ji. I’ve never cared what people think of me, I just live my life. And we’ve been given another chance to do exactly that.”</p>
<p>“You’re amazing. You nerd.” I squeezed him.</p>
<p>“Actually, what I meant was that animals are very sensitive to paranormal activity. A dog’d be a good warning system.” How could I not laugh at him?</p>
<p>“Course you did.” But I was laughing at least half with delight. Seunghyun looked like he was inclined to give me a spanking (which to be honest I wasn’t opposed to) when the <em>phone rang</em>. We stared at each other: the line was working again! Our first contact with the world in more than a week. We scrambled out of bed and raced for his book room; I got to the phone first ‘cos modest Seunghyun had put his pyjamas back on and tripped over his pants hem. I grabbed for the receiver, hauling him up with my free hand. “Hello?!”</p>
<p>“Fuck me, you’re alive!” Never had I been so glad to hear Henry’s accented screech. Seunghyun put his cheek to the other side of the receiver, grinning maniacally.</p>
<p>“Dude!!”</p>
<p>“<em>Dude</em>,” said Henry. “Thank Christ you bastards are okay!” Seunghyun slid his arms round my waist.</p>
<p>“Okay’s an understatement. But you and Dae? We haven’t heard a thing since Jaesuk called us, we haven’t <em>been</em> here…”</p>
<p>“Ehh. It was no walk in the park. We’re not even sure if it worked properly.” What a pleasant and unusual feeling it was to know more than Henry for once!</p>
<p>“It worked,” I assured him. “It’s…” I looked fondly at Seunghyun. “Let’s just meet up, you’ll see for yourself!”</p>
<p>“Right on. When?”</p>
<p>“Soon as we’ve got our clothes on. The café.” I put the phone down and caught Seunghyun hiding a smirk. “What?” He coughed into his hand, then drew me against him.</p>
<p>“Nothing. Let’s get back to the real world.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The weather had changed at last: bright and cool. A fresh breeze for our fresh start. We walked to the café and arrived arm in arm to find Major and Minor waiting for us in an upstairs corner. I gasped: both of them looked as if they’d lost several kilos. Daesung’s wrist was heavily bandaged while Henry had a black eye. Their table was piled high with food and they were stuffing themselves. All in all they were absolutely haggard, but radiating accomplishment.</p>
<p>“How d’you know it worked?” demanded Daesung immediately (with his mouth full). Seunghyun just rushed him and threw both arms around him; I wrapped Henry in a bear hug, I was so happy to see them. I knew now how much danger they’d put themselves in to free us.</p>
<p>“Look at us,” said Seunghyun after the younger man impatiently repeated his question. We took a seat opposite them.</p>
<p>“You’re all shiny,” observed Henry. I laughed.</p>
<p>“You did it,” Seunghyun assured them, squeezing Henry’s hairy wrist. We glanced at each other. “…Maybe with a bit of help.”</p>
<p>“Help?” said Henry in a territorial tone. “From Jaesuk?”</p>
<p>“No.” Seunghyun blushed – so <em>he</em> thought we’d done magick together too! “It was…well.” He took my hand. Two blank stares (both occultists looked wiped out and most likely weren’t fully on the ball).</p>
<p>“You know what they say about Thelema,” I added, po-faced. Another thirty seconds passed while they worked it out. I was debating whether they might need a more explicit demonstration when Seunghyun started giggling. Daesung’s jaw dropped.</p>
<p>“Am I right?” said Henry, eyes exaggeratedly wide. “Did I just go a whole <em>month </em>without sex and booze and almost lose my mind so you two could bang?”</p>
<p>“I can only speak on my behalf,” I told them. “But it was the best gift anyone’s ever given me.” Seunghyun blushed but didn’t release my hand.</p>
<p>“You…!” Daesung was still gaping like a fish; his stare was largely directed at Seunghyun.</p>
<p>“Come <em>on</em>,” said Henry with his irrepressible cackle, jerking his thumb at me – nothing could dampen him, it seemed. “You can’t be so surprised! No straight guy is that stylish.” I preened.</p>
<p>“Not <em>him</em>,” retorted Daesung. “<em>Hyung</em>! I never thought…” He passed a hand across his mouth and I bit my lip: I never wanted Seunghyun to experience the fear I’d felt my whole life of people finding out I was gay. “I just never imagined Seunghyun would bag someone so impressive!” Oh. Well – in that case. “Not that you’re not a catch,” he hurried to assure Seunghyun, who didn’t look a bit offended. “But I was worried no-one would ever see it – at least, not anyone who’d be a match for you.”</p>
<p>“I see it,” I said, and pressed Seunghyun’s hand. And now seemed a good time to ask: “But when did <em>you</em> see it?”</p>
<p>“Eh?” Seunghyun looked puzzled; our friends watched on, mighty interested. “Was it only when we thought we were at the end of everything?” I queried. “…Or did you already know you liked me?”</p>
<p>“Umm.” He took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “I dunno. I mean, I already knew you were the most interesting person I’ve ever met; and I knew you were cute. I wanted to look after you – you were such a beginner at all this!” Henry was sniggering under his breath, possibly in pity at our dimness. Seunghyun frowned. “Then I had this dream where I kissed you and…when you said your boyfriend had asked you to move in I felt…weird. And every time I thought about you getting hurt, of something happening to you, <em>I</em> hurt. Does that count as knowing?”</p>
<p>“I guess they’re all the ingredients for knowing.” I smiled at him; so it hadn’t only been our imminent demise that made him care for me – it was simply the push he had needed.</p>
<p>“Did <em>you</em> know?” he inquired in return. Now Henry was rolling his eyes.</p>
<p>“Of course he knew,” said Daesung.</p>
<p>“Of <em>course</em> I knew,” I repeated. “I knew I wanted you from almost the first moment we met.” My poor ufologist looked befuddled.</p>
<p>“I never guessed!”</p>
<p>“Not even when you found out I was gay?” He blushed but shook his head. The dimwit. “I like guys; and you’re the most beautiful man in the world, and the sweetest – and I agreed to come to <em>KUFOS</em> meetings for you!”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” put in Daesung, “if that’s not true love I don’t know what is.”</p>
<p>“…I just didn’t see,” mumbled Seunghyun. He brightened up. “But I do now: I see <em>everything</em>.”</p>
<p>“Well. If it took a whole esoteric journey just to get you to notice me, I suppose all those rituals were worth it.” We all sighed an accomplished sigh – we’d each done our part, hadn’t we? Henry gave Occultist Major a light punch in the arm.</p>
<p>“Dude. We did an <em>awesome</em> job. Chaos magick rules!”</p>
<p>“No more MIBs?” asked Daesung. I felt so light, free and blissful at being out and in love. Seunghyun’s hand was warm on my thigh, anchoring me.</p>
<p>“No more. I know it. You two’re great magicians.” They looked proud as could be.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Henry around a mouthful of muffin. “Better write up your reports! KUFOS meeting tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“We’re a bit far from UFOs now,” Seunghyun pointed out. “It’s all got so…<em>mystical</em>.”</p>
<p>“No.” Henry looked delighted. “They’re gonna listen to this whole wiggedy tale! What better example of our Unified Theory? We’re gonna stuff it down their throats!” As I watched a grin dawned on Seunghyun’s face. The sight made me absurdly happy: none of this had changed him. I didn’t <em>want</em> him changed, my brilliant, curious fanatic. Knowing that he loved me was all I could wish for – in every other respect I would take him as he came. The nerd.</p>
<p>“I suppose you brought the report forms, too,” I said drily. In reply Henry whipped out a stack of paper and divided it between us.</p>
<p>“I’ll get the drinks in – you two get writing.” He clambered out of his seat. “This is gonna be the greatest story of our lives!” I sighed. Seunghyun leaned over and kissed my temple before handing me a pen. I bent over my paper, beaming to myself, and prepared to tell the world (or at least ten dorky members of it) the truth.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It was night when we finished writing. Our table was stacked with plates and glasses (none of which I’d broken) and my fingers were smudged with ink. Daesung and Henry had left to go ghost-hunting. To me it felt as if only minutes had passed, because Seunghyun was beside me: sneaking peeks at my report, whispering suggestions, bringing me his best romantic offerings from the irritated waitresses (hot chocolate and cookies). Once we were done he placed the forms neatly in his messenger bag, took my hand and led me out. I let him; it was everything I wanted in a boyfriend. A few late customers looked at us askance, with disapproval. He didn’t even notice, just kept smiling down at me as we stepped into the street.</p>
<p>We strolled towards Seunghyun’s place in the dark, and I wasn’t afraid; not of the Black Lodge, not of homophobes or police or anything else. I could still feel the light within me. Time to tell the truth on all counts, I told myself, and not only to Minwoo: Dami would finally have her answer, and my mum. I swallowed at that; it would take some courage. But if they accepted me they accepted me, and if they wouldn’t…well, life’s too short to lie.</p>
<p>“Think we can go back to normal now?” said Seunghyun (who’d informed me his parents would be so bamboozled at the idea of him having someone that my sex was likely to be a mere Greek chorus to their overall shock). “I want to see another UFO; this time without all the rest of it. The occult stuff is cool, but…”</p>
<p>“Regrets?” I leaned against him. Seunghyun turned us down the alley shortcut. He rubbed his thumb against my hand.</p>
<p>“Hardly. I’ve got everything I want.”</p>
<p>We emerged from the alley into his apartment’s parking lot – and stopped. When we looked up the night sky was filled with lights. It was as if we’d suddenly entered another world. In perfect sync our mouths dropped open and we tipped our heads back to look at them: bright white and gold, thousands of them, hovering like giant fireflies hundreds of feet above us. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. In that moment I knew what they were, accepted the truth of it and had no wish to deny it or explain it away. There was no other possibility: these were the proof of everything – the end point of our journey and the beginning of a new one. I felt Seunghyun’s hand tighten on mine, and I pressed his fingers in a wondering instant. Even if nobody but we two saw them – <em>could</em> see them – it didn’t matter: they were here for <em>us</em>.</p>
<p>We stood there for perhaps five minutes watching that magical display. Then the UFOs, or entities or White Lodge messengers or psychedelic hallucinations or <em>whatever</em> the hell they were, winked out of sight, leaving us staring at the starry sky with all its possibilities and the moon gazing back at us.</p>
<p>“…Wow,” whispered Seunghyun, his perfect face ecstatic. <em>Wow</em> indeed.</p>
<p>“It’s your reward,” I told him; I was absolutely sure of it. Behind those lights I had glimpsed a hint of the vast knowledge we’d gained in that white place. Even if we didn’t remember it now, I knew it would come back to us so long as we kept our minds and our mouths open.</p>
<p>“For what?” he asked, smiling down at me.</p>
<p>“For believing. And never, <em>ever</em> being afraid to speak.”</p>
<p>“Then it’s your reward too.” Seunghyun squeezed my hand. “I believed, but you’re the one who showed me that what I believe is <em>real</em> – <em>you’re </em>the one who made it all happen. <em>You’re</em> my reward, Jiyong; and every step we took led us to this: together.”</p>
<p>“A reward for <em>us</em>,” I agreed. I wanted to laugh: was this what it felt like to be high? I could sense our connection in every inch of skin that touched his, and my connection with the universe in each breath of air that touched mine. “Isn’t it beautiful,” I said dreamily. Seunghyun wrapped his arms around me.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said, looking down at me under the moonlight. “And so is this.” Then he kissed me.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s the end of the story right there. Well, not the end, of course: Seunghyun is right over on the sofa, watching YouTube videos of UFO sightings on his phone while I type this out. We’ve had plenty more adventures in the last thirty years, sexual, emotional, sartorial, paranormal. We talk about all the high strangeness we encounter – I even write about it, as I said I would (under a pen name, Henry agreed it’s not cheating). But I think I’ll leave off there: a kiss, and a moment of perfect understanding. And, of course, a piece of closing advice:</p>
<p><em>Don’t be afraid</em>. Crowley was right about one thing: ‘Do as thou wilt’, without fear. Explore your own universe. Ask questions, however stupid other people think they are – don’t let anyone tell you you shouldn’t! But be sure to <em>think</em> about the answers you get; and be sure they make you smarter. Talk about what you learn; don’t be silenced. Watch the skies, and your own back yard. They’re right, you know: the truth <em>is</em> out there – but remember that sometimes the most important thing you’ll ever find is right by your side all along. That’s what the two of us learned, and we learn it again every day. Love: the most magical encounter.</p>
<p>Oh. And don’t forget: <em>watch your back for the Men in Black</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>THE END</strong>
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<p> </p>
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  <a href="https://i.imgur.com/hg2xXET.png">  </a>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So there you are! The boys went on to have many more adventures; after a few years they moved to the USA. Jiyong became a well-known designer and Seunghyun joined MUFON. Anyway, now they live in New York and they're married :)</p>
<p>Wow, this series seemed to go by in a flash! I really enjoyed doing something with a slightly unusual theme; if you have time I'd love to hear what you thought of it!<br/>(And once more wanna sing out my recommendations: Last Podcast on the Left, Twin Peaks, and Hellier!)</p>
<p>For my upcoming GTOP fic schedule, next week I'll take a break, then there'll be a fluffy one-shot. After that I've got a short-ish series lined up, which will be another period drama (of course!): a bit of a dark story based on a classic novel. In the meantime I'll still be posting GTOP art on my tumblr and Instagram :)</p>
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